


Harry Potter and the Potter Family Secret

by themadmage



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (starting when he is eleven), Alliances, Care of Magical Creatures, Dragons, Eventual Harem, F/M, Familiars, Family Secrets, Goblins, Harry Potter is a Lord Many Times Over, Harry Potter was Raised by Other(s), House Elves, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Multi, Nundus, Nymphs & Dryads, Probably some Weasley bashing, Ravenclaw Harry Potter, Ravenclaw Hermione Granger, Use of Love Potions but ABSOLUTELY NOTHING HAPPENS while under the influence of them, Wizarding Culture (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2019-10-09 13:25:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 29,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17407745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themadmage/pseuds/themadmage
Summary: When Harry Potter visits Gringotts on his eleventh birthday, he learns about the Potter Family Secret and is swept up in his role in a millenia old family mission. Taking this into account, he'll navigate Hogwarts, alliances with other families, family magic, and wizarding culture.Based on a detailed prompt from Hkurtz2013 over on FFN, which was posted in a Facebook group for HP Fanfiction. Hkurtz2013 is involved in the planning and editing of this story, so it'll be a bit different from my other works.





	1. The Potters' Secret

A half-giant walking into Gringotts with a too-short, awed eleven year old drowning in his clothes would have been a sight and a half even without the lightning bolt scar that got them so much attention. The goblin teller recognized the child as a mirror image of James Potter and notified Ragnok, the family’s account manager, while he was distracted reading the inscription by the door. 

The mismatched duo approached the teller, and Hagrid spoke. “Mornin’. We’ve come ter take some money outta Mr. Harry Potter’s safe.”

“Mr. Harry Potter will be doing more today than collecting gold. The Potter family account manager will see him in the conference room.”

Hagrid immediately looked flustered. “Well- er- we got lots ter be doin’ today, I got other business. Really no time, ‘n’ Dumbledore says we’re teh be makin’ no extra stops.”

“You can go about your other business, Mr. Hagrid. You won’t be welcome while Mr. Potter speaks with Ragnok.”

Harry’s eyes went wide as Hagrid sputtered. The immense man couldn’t even collect himself before one of the other goblins escorted Harry into another room off to the side of the bank. 

 

Inside the conference room, the goblin at the table gave Harry a sharp toothed grin as he stood and bowed. “Mr. Potter, it is good to see you at last.”

“I-it is?”

“Indeed, Mr. Potter. When your family’s Estate Manager could not locate you after your parents’ deaths, we were asked to act as a liaison and send you to them when you first appeared. We did not expect it to take nearly a decade.”

“‘M sorry.”

“It is not your fault, Mr. Potter. You are a child; it was the responsibility of your guardian to bring you here. Several missives were ignored.”

“Oh- er- they’re muggles, so I don’t think it’s really their fault either.”

“Muggles? Have you not been living with your magical guardian, Albus Dumbledore?” Silently, Harry shook his head. “Who have you been living with?”

“My mum’s sister’s family.”

“Would this be the Dursley family?”

“Yes, sir.”

The goblin frowned, which was somehow less intimidating than his smile. “You were never meant to be in their care. Should their chosen guardians for you be unable to care for you, as was the case, you were meant to go straight to the Potter Estate to be raised by its management.”

“Oh.”

“The Estate’s manager, Hollia, is awaiting you. Did your muggle relatives at least tell you about your family’s legacy?”

“No, sir,” said a shamefaced Harry. “I only found out this morning how they even died or that I was a wizard.”

The goblin bared his teeth. “I see you will have a lot to learn then, and only a day to do it in. It is your eleventh birthday, correct, Mr. Potter?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then it is good that your visit was not delayed another day. The deadline for you to claim your familiar and your Family Magic is midnight tonight. Hollia will be able to explain in more detail when you are no longer on such a tight deadline, but the root of the matter is that for the last two thousand years or so, the Potter family has maintained a preserve for endangered creatures and beings, both magical and non-magical. Because of this the Potter family has developed a special brand of Beast Tamer’s magic and no magical creature will attack or injure you of its own will, even those that are Dark in nature. There are several requirements to maintain this magic, which Hollia will explain in more detail, but the first is that you bond with a familiar from the preserve by midnight on your eleventh birthday.”

“A familiar- like a pet?”

“A familiar is more than a pet, Mr. Potter. Your familiar will defend you and serve you in perfect faith, understand spoken language through its connection to you, and live for as long as you do so long as it isn’t killed.”

“Oh, wow.”

“Indeed, Mr. Potter," Ragnok sneered. Harry was starting to think that was just his natural tone, as he seemed to sneer or growl every word. "A familiar is a wonderful gift. However, you need to get to the estate and find yours quickly, or the opportunity will pass. As it is you have only twelve hours. We have just one thing to do before you leave. Certain old families, yours included, routinely employ our healers for health checks, as goblin healers are more sensitive to the development of one’s magical core than wizard healers. You should have had your first at five years of age, and your second this year.”

“Oh. What does the check involve?”

In response, Ragnok pressed his finger to a jewel on the table. It glowed briefly, and almost as soon as the light faded the door opened and another goblin entered the room. This one was dressed differently, and Harry correctly assumed it was the healer. “This is Gornuk, head Healer of the Goblin Nation.”

“Hello, sir,” Harry said politely.

The goblin healer only grunted in response, but Harry was quickly learning not to take their gruff nature personally. He set the case he was carrying on the table, and removed a bowl, a large crystal, and a decorative silver knife. The crystal was placed in the bowl, and immediately surrounded by a shallow pool of water that could only have come about by magic. Finally, Gornuk addressed Harry. “You will prick your finger with the athame, and drip three drops of your blood onto the crystal. The athame retains none of your blood and the cut will heal immediately when the crystal activates. Blood allows us to examine your magical core directly, giving a more complete picture of your physical and magical health than external scans.”

Based on the assurances the goblin gave him about the knife and his blood, Harry assumed that having a sample of it could be used against him. He nodded to Gornuk, and followed his direction. Just as the goblin healer had promised, the small cut he made on his thumb healed immediately when the third drop of blood hit the crystal. 

Light flared around the dish, most of it the same shade of green as Harry’s eyes. The aura had a purple edge to it with a white band wrapping around the center, constricting it like a belt. Harry barely noticed these, however, as his attention was drawn to the black spot near the core of it.

“There is a binding placed on your magic, restricting full access to your core, as well as an artificial aura intended to make you unlikable. Both of these can be removed today, with your permission. There is also a foreign presence within your core that I do not recognize. The Goblin Nation has never seen anything like this, and I will have to examine it closely before we can take action against it. While it isn’t a positive presence, it doesn’t seem to be negatively impacting your magical growth. You are also slightly malnourished, but not dangerously so. A proper diet will solve the problem without magical intervention.”

Harry stared at Gornuk for a few moments before realizing that he was waiting for a response. “Remove the binding and the aura. Is there a way to tell who put them on me?”

“If they were new, we would be able to read the magical residue and compare it with known magical signatures to find a match. Given the extent of the Goblin Nation’s database, finding one would be almost assured. However, these seem to have been with you for most of your life, and as such are too old to carry any residue. Follow me to the ritual room to remove the binding and aura.”

 

Gornuk strode immediately out of the room, and despite the goblin’s diminutive size Harry had to rush to keep up. The ritual room was a chamber that appeared to be carved out of stone, and unfurnished. The only thing to look at in the room was a circle made from some sort of black crystal embedded into the floor at the center. “Lie down in the circle. There may be some pain with the cleansing ritual, so prepare yourself.”

Harry nodded, swallowing nervously, and took the position the goblin healer had instructed him to. Immediately, Gornuk began chanting in a guttural language Harry didn’t recognize. Moments after he began the chant, Harry’s body began to burn. The ritual cleansing lasted about five minutes, while the pain Harry experienced continued to increase the entire time. When Gornuk fell silent a burst of pure magic exploded from Harry and the pain ceased, leaving Harry panting for breath. 

“The ritual is complete. Follow me back to the conference room, where Ragnok will complete your business today.”

Again, Harry half-jogged to follow Gornuk until he found himself back in the conference room with the first goblin, Ragnok. The healer gathered his supplies back into his case and left while Harry took a seat at the table.

Ragnok presented Harry with a ring bearing an old-looking family crest. “This is the Potter heir’s ring. It is also a portkey to the Potter Estate, where Hollia will meet you. You should wear the ring at all times, so that you can use the portkey in an emergency. To activate it, say ‘cura tuendae’. Conservation and Care, the Potter family motto.”

Harry had slipped the ring on while Ragnok was lecturing him about it, and it had magically resized to fit his finger perfectly. To make sure he’d heard the motto correctly, he asked “Cura tuendae?”

Apparently he had heard it perfectly, because as soon as he spoke Harry felt a sudden pull behind his navel and the bank was gone.


	2. The Potter Estate

Harry looked around wildly as he landed on his bum in a large garden he’d never seen before. 

A large manor made from pale marble stood in front of him, lined with Roman-style columns and seeming to glow. The path where Harry landed cut through a large garden which flourished with shrubs, flowers, and trees. In the distance Harry could see several smaller houses, less grand than the manor house but still belonging to the same grounds. Matching in a way. Despite the lack of bustling shoppers in robes and flashing signs, this place gave off a distinctly magical aura just as strong as Harry had felt when he first stepped into Diagon Alley that morning. 

A woman stood in front of Harry, smiling softly at him. She was tall and willowy, with brown skin and hair and forest green eyes, darker than Harry’s own. She was dressed in simple clothing that looked to be made of leather, her feet bare. Where the grass met her skin, it seemed to dance. 

“Hello, young Potter. It is good to see you at last.”

“Er- hi. I’m Harry. Are you Hollia?”

Her smile grew. “Indeed I am, Harry.”

“And this is the Potter Estate?”

“Correct again.”

Just then Harry realized he had no idea where he was and that no one else, except maybe Ragnok, did either. With a panicked expression, he began ranting without pausing to breathe. “Hagrid! He’ll be looking for me. And I activated the ring by accident, Ragnok might not have been done talking to me. I still have to get my school things - I didn’t even get money!”

Hollia only continued smiling gently. “The goblins will take care of things with your guide to Diagon Alley today," she assured him. "Your mission here is time sensitive, as I’m sure Ragnok told you. I will arrange for someone to bring you back to Diagon Alley tomorrow to purchase your supplies.”

“I don’t have to go back to my Aunt and Uncle’s tonight?” Harry asked hopefully. The Dursley family had always treated him awfully, and he’d never had the luxury of a night away from them before. He was willing to bet that here he would be allowed to sleep in a proper bedroom.

Hollia’s expression darkened slightly. “If you do not wish it, you never have to return there again. You should have been raised here, by me and the house elves. I saw some of the things those foul people put you through through my tree that your mother planted in their yard. If I could, I would have taken you away.”

“What do you mean your tree? And why couldn’t you?”

“Did Ragnok tell you what I am, Harry?” The boy shook his head. “I am a Dryad, an ancient tree spirit. My people were the first to be given sanctuary by your ancestors, and as a result we help to manage the sanctuary and your family’s affairs. I have been the Estate Manager for almost two hundred years, as was my mother before me.”

“Woah," Harry breathed. 

Hollia laughed gently. “Indeed. Dryads are born from trees, Harry, and take our life force from them as well. I will live as long as the tree I was born from does, but I cannot leave the grounds where it was planted. I was born on the Potter Estate, and eventually I will die here.” At the worried look Harry gave her, she added “Not for some time, yet. Trees live a very long time, Harry. I may still outlive you.”

He nodded, comforted. “So if you can’t leave here, how did you see me?”

“While I am bound to one tree, I can temporarily extend my senses and my magic through others that came from its seeds. Your mother planted one of my tree’s saplings in the garden at her sister’s house as a means of looking out for her safety during the Wizarding World’s war. The sisters had long since parted ways, but Lily still loved Petunia. Through that tree, I was able to see some of the things that happened in that house. You spent the night in it once, and I kept you warm.”

“The night Ripper chased me into a tree?”

“Indeed, Harry.”

He smiled. “Thank you, then.”

“It was both the least, and the most, that I could do. But come, you must find a familiar before midnight. We can continue this conversation when we are not so pressed for time.”

Harry nodded his agreement, and Hollia led him into the grand manor house. The inside was grand, with high ceilings and wide staircases, but they did not stop to fully take it in. Hollia continued to lead Harry to a stretch of blank wall at the left of the room where she pricked her finger on a nearby wall sconce, causing a door to materialize. She led him through and down the stairs. 

“This door is warded to only allow those who know the Potter Family secret in, verified by blood. Down these stairs is the sanctuary, which exists in a sort of pocket universe created by magic. It’s called Wizard Space, though several types of creatures and beings have put their magic into this particular example in order to enhance it and make it more durable. What you need to do is walk through the sanctuary, following the pull of your magic. It will feel like instinct, so long as you remain calm and listen to it. Rest assured that none of the creatures will hurt either of us. When your familiar senses your magic, it will instinctively come to meet you. The bond will begin when you touch, and settle once you have named your familiar. The sanctuary is very large, but your bond must be settled by midnight tonight. Do you have any questions?”

Harry could only shake his head, overwhelmed by the sight as they stepped through a door at the bottom of the staircase. The stairwell had been narrow, with bare stone walls and steps, but he suddenly found himself standing in a forest. The ceiling, if this place even had one, was so high in the air it looked like the sky. The ground was naturally soft beneath his feet, and he could smell the wildness of the place in the air. Harry paused for only a moment before choosing a direction and walking, hoping that this was following his magic and not simply a random choice. 

 

Harry wandered for hours, while Hollia followed silently. The forest he started in gave way to a desert, a savannah, and even mountainous landscape. Harry could hardly believe he was still under the Potter Estate. He also saw a multitude of creatures he couldn’t hope to identify. Huge, oddly colored bird-like ones, grey ones with long necks and bulbous eyes, felines with extra tails, and more that he could barely describe. The creatures watched him curiously as he walked, but all kept their distance. Harry wanted to ask Hollia about them, but somehow felt like he should be silent for now. There would be time to learn about the creatures later. 

It was after four in the afternoon and Harry was getting quite tired when they met. He was wandering through a mountain valley under a hot sun, vaguely wondering at the fact that he wasn’t sweating, when a beast with spots like a leopard and a mane like a lion approached. Behind Harry, Hollia gasped quietly when the beast lowered its head in a mimicry of a bow in front of the child. It was massive, its shoulders higher than Harry’s head, and Harry had to reach upwards to place a hand on the beast’s forehead. Magic stirred in Harry’s core, and he smiled.

“Congratulations, Harry.”

Harry startled, having nearly forgotten that Hollia was with him. He turned to her with a grin. “Thank you.”

Hollia continued, a degree of caution in her voice. “This is a Nundu. He will never hurt you, but they are very dangerous creatures. He is extremely strong and difficult to subdue, and can breathe toxic gas. Rumors about them are slightly exaggerated, as is true about many magical creatures, but many consider the Nundu to be the most dangerous creature in existence.” Harry’s eyes widened dramatically at that, and Hollia paused in amusement. “So, what will you name him?”

Harry turned back to the Nundu, clear respect on his face while he searched its intelligent eyes. He thought about the mythology books he’d liked to read in the library while hiding from his cousin, and decided that such a fearsome creature deserved to be named for the gods. “Ares,” he proclaimed confidently. The stirring magic in Harry’s core settled, still noticeably present but much calmer. Harry turned to grin at Hollia, who smiled back.

“Come upstairs, Harry. I’m sure the house elves will be happy to prepare you an early dinner.”

Harry's stomach growled at the thought of food. “Can Ares come?”

Hollia chuckled kindly as she turned back the way they came. “Of course. Your familiar can go anywhere with you.”

Harry followed her, noticing they were taking a much more direct path back. “Won’t it cause problems if I’m walking around school this fall with one of the most dangerous creatures in the world?”

“Your familiar bond allows Ares to take the shape of a house cat in order to travel with you. This is a unique feature to Potter family familiars, as it would raise questions quickly if you were all walking around with such exotic familiars for generations.”

Harry smiled, and ran his fingers through Ares' mane. He  _loved_ magic.


	3. The Potters' History

A wide-eyed, enthusiastic house elf named Itty served dinner almost as soon as Harry and Hollia entered the dining room of the manor.

“Elves work fast,” Harry said with a tone of awe.

Hollia chuckled. “It is what they live for. Complimenting a house elf on the quality of their work is the highest favor you can pay them. It also helps speed things along that the Potter Estate sustains such a large population of elves.”

Harry took a bite, suddenly realizing how hungry he was. The Dursleys hadn’t fed him breakfast that morning, and he’d missed lunch wandering through the preserve. The meal was simple - a shepherd’s pie and juice that Harry had assumed would be orange but was actually pumpkin - but it was delicious. He said as much, and swore he could hear a pleased squeal in response. Hollia only smiled.

“While you are eating, Harry, allow me to tell you more about the Potter Estate and your family history.”

“Yes, please,” Harry replied with a grateful shine in his eyes.

Hollia smiled and began telling the story to her young charge.

 

“The family mission was begun around two thousand years ago by one of your ancestors, Hadrian Potter, who had married a Seer. Hadrian's wife foresaw the destruction of many magical creatures as the Romans expanded their rule across Europe if something wasn’t done to prevent it, and so Hadrian Potter began the preserve. The centaurs who lived in my people’s forest also saw this possibility in the stars, and it was through them that we contacted Hadrian Potter for aid.

"At first, the movement was small. It was several generations before the Estate you see today was established, and the preserve itself has been expanded and improved several times since then. House elves began flocking to the Estate shortly after it was established, often after being rescued from families that abused their unique magic. House elves, you see, truly love to serve and their magic flourishes and grows when they are bonded to a powerful family. However, the same bond forces them to obey their family’s commands and some wizards use that compulsion to abuse and mistreat the elves. Only a particularly powerful elf can survive more than a decade or so unbonded, but with a healthy bond they live for hundreds of years and can perform immensely powerful feats of magic.”

Harry cut in. “But why would someone hurt a house elf, then, if a healthy bond makes them so much stronger?”

“Why would your relatives hurt you, when the same could be said for a child?” Harry flinched at the reminder of the abuse he’d survived. Hollia continued. “I don’t mean to be insensitive, Harry, only to draw a parallel. Some people are cruel, and mistreat others. Those who abuse their house elves often see them as unworthy because they are not human, and so long as they can always get another elf when the abused ones die they see no reason to treat them well.”

“That’s just wrong,” Harry said angrily. 

“Indeed, and that is why generations of Potters have taken to collecting abused house elves and binding them to the Potter family. The Potters are a strong, old family with a long history of treating all creatures with reverence. The house elves that live here are some of the strongest and happiest in the world.”

Harry smiled, and silently vowed to continue the work of his family. Not that he hadn’t planned to already, of course, but Hollia’s words firmed his resolve.

Seeing him satisfied, she continued her tale. “So, over time, the Potter family developed a special magical talent which has remained as secret as its mission - the Beast Masters talent. Because of your family magic, no magical creature will ever seek to harm you and you will find yourself resistant or immune to many of their harmful abilities or effects. The family magic will also aid you in calming or taming creatures.

"About five hundred years ago, while my mother served as the Estate manager, an ancestor of yours named Charlus Potter expanded the sanctuary to include non-magical animals that were under threat of extinction. Around this same time, the sanctuary grew too large to continue to manage it alone. Your ancestors sought out alliances with other families who could provide resources and support for the mission, and protected the preserve from those who would harm the creatures there using a variation of the Fidelius charm. Have you heard of the Fidelius?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“The Fidelius charm is typically used to hide a location, but can be modified to hide a person or in this case knowledge. It is a powerful piece of magic that protects the Secret within a person’s soul. That person is called the Secret Keeper, and they are the only one who can share the information and can only do so willingly. If a house is hidden with the Fidelius charm, for example, anyone who has not been told the Secret could walk right up to the edge of the warded area and not see the house until the Secret Keeper told them it was there.

"The Fidelius charm in this case is protecting only the Preserve and the knowledge of your family’s mission, and it is tied to the Potter bloodline so that each Potter born becomes a Secret Keeper. You must take care, however, in who you trust with the Secret. Only allied families should be made aware, and it is likely that the heirs and heiresses of these families that you’ll attend Hogwarts with won’t know about the Secret yet. Until they are older, ready to work in the Wizarding World and continue their own family’s work, there is no reason for them to know.”

“I understand. Even if I trust someone, the more people know about the mission the more risk there is of someone causing problems.”

“Exactly,” Hollia said with a smile.

Harry tilted his head. “If the Fidelius charm is so strong, why didn’t my parents use it to survive when You-Know-Who came to kill them?”

Hollia’s face darkened. “They did, actually. But the Fidelius charm does have its weaknesses. The first comes from hiding a place that is too well-known. When your parents went into hiding, they couldn’t do so here. Too many people know of the Potter Estate, even if they don’t know what lies below it, and while the Fidelius charm would remove their knowledge of the place from their minds they would still be able to remember its relative location, or the places near it. Another weakness of the Fidelius charm, and the one that led to your parents’ death, is that it is only as strong as the Secret Keeper. The one person who holds the Secret can tell it to anyone they choose. Your parents’ Secret Keeper betrayed them.”

“Who was it?” Harry asked with a thunderous expression.

“Unfortunately, I do not know," Hollia looked genuinely saddened. "Your father had left the Estate after graduating from Hogwarts, with the intent to return and take over the mission after the war. No one ever told me who they chose to protect them.”

Harry was troubled. Making someone a Secret Keeper was obviously a major show of trust. Whoever his parents had chosen had broken that trust, and it was their fault as much as it was You-Know-Who’s that his parents were dead.

Hollia saw the emotions rushing across the child’s face and stepped in. “If we ever find out who their Secret Keeper was, we will ensure that they face justice. In the meantime, Harry, have you ever heard the phrase, ‘The best revenge is a life well-lived’?”

“Yes," Harry said after a moment. "Whoever my parents’ Secret Keeper was, they wanted me to die and You-Know-Who to win, but that didn’t happen. Now, I should live my life and be happy to make sure that they never get what they wanted.”

“Exactly, Harry. Now, let me tell you what the Estate is like today. The Sanctuary below this manor is currently home to one hundred and thirty-three different species of Magical creatures and twelve species of non-magical animals. Many of these species are believed to be extinct, especially the non-magical ones. Those that are believed extinct cannot be re-released into the wild as the world has changed too much for them, but here they are flourishing.

"Occasionally, a species that is at risk for extinction has been brought here for breeding and successfully reintroduced to the world, as we are currently trying to do with the non-magical desert tortoise. Some of the ‘extinct’ animals that live here include the Aurochs, a type of wild cattle, the Atlas Bear of of Africa, and even the Dodo bird.” Harry's expressed surprise at the last drew a chuckle from Hollia. “Magical species that are here are less likely to be believed extinct because we sell ethically harvested potions ingredients from them, but some that no longer exist outside of the preserve are the Pegasus and the Crumple-Horned Snorkack.”

“What do you mean by ethically harvested potions ingredients?”

“Some things, like feathers, droppings, and venom, can be harvested from a living animal without harming them. Because the creatures in the preserve have everything they need for a quality life and are safe from poachers or predators, we are able to harvest these for sale regularly. Other animal parts used for ingredients cannot be taken from a living creature, like eyes or spleens, and these are only harvested here at the preserve only after a creature dies of natural causes. The house elves monitor the health of the creatures in the preserve and harvest the ingredients at the appropriate time.”

“Oh. And it's safe for them?”

Hollia smiled again at Harry's thoughtfulness. He would be a credit to his family. “Yes. The elves are able to pop into the preserve after a creature dies, and pop back out with the body to do the harvesting in a designated safe location. I handle the negotiations for sale with the allied families who specialize in the potions field.”

“That makes sense. So what families are we allied with?”

“The families we are allied with for the purpose of the mission are not necessarily the same as our political allies," Hollia cautioned. "They come from both sides of the war that your parents fought in, but the alliances we have have been in place for generations."

"The Lovegood family, politically Light, and the Scamander family, politically neutral, are creature experts, and help to find near-extinct creatures in need of the preserve and bring them here. It has earned them a somewhat eccentric reputation, which I believe the current head of the Lovegood family intentionally encourages. The Greengrass family, politically neutral, are potions masters and it is through them that I negotiate the sale of the potions ingredients harvested here. The Longbottom family, politically Light, are Herbology experts who help maintain the various environments in the preserve. Finally, the Nott family, politically Dark, work in imports and exports, especially of things which are restricted or illegal for sale in Britain but produced or needed here at the Estate.”

Harry nodded, mentally filing that information away.

“I believe all of those families have children within a year or two of your age who will attend Hogwarts with you. Get to know them. You don't have to be the best of friends, but you should become acquainted before you have to work together. The Nott heir will be the most difficult to get to know, but at least try not to alienate him completely.”

Harry nodded seriously. 

“We also ally closely with the Goblins of Gringotts. Because they have their own nation, the goblins have never been in need of the preserve. However, as magical creatures themselves, they respect the Potter family's mission and hold your family in higher esteem than they do most wizards. Additionally, the goblin in charge of the Potter accounts is included as a Secret Keeper in the Fidelius charm in case of a situation like yours.”

“Oh, that makes sense. I was wondering why Ragnok was able to tell me about the mission before sending me here.”

“Indeed. The Potter family also founded and helps to fund several dragon reserves outside of the Estate, as keeping dragons below the manor long term would just be an invitation for a fire.”

Harry laughed a bit. “It would, wouldn't it?.”

“You look overwhelmed," Hollia said with concern. "I've given you a lot of information tonight, but most of it is recorded in the library here at the Estate.” Harry was visibly relieved that he wouldn't have to remember everything on his own. “You have more on your shoulders as the last of the Potters than I'd like at your age, but you are still a child. Until you graduate from Hogwarts just focus on being the best wizard that you can be, and make connections with your peers. If you find a creature in need, the portkey in your ring can be used to bring it here. You can also communicate with me through the ring anytime you have need.”

“I can manage that,” Harry replied with a grin.

Itty came back to clear away their dishes, and Hollia stood up. "A short tour of the Estate before bed?"

 

Hollia took Harry around the grounds first, so that he could see them before it got dark out. Harry learned that the trees in the garden were all Dryad trees, and that the flourishing shrubs and flower gardens were tended by a team of twenty-five house elves who had no other responsibilities, save for in winter when the plants went dormant.

The smaller buildings that Harry had seen on the grounds had originally been built as lodging for human employees of the Estate, then were converted into house elf quarters when those employees were no longer needed. The one closest to the manor remained outfitted for humans as a guest house, in case the Potters ever had guests who wanted more privacy than rooms in the manor provided. It wasn't used often, but the elves kept it well maintained for when it would be needed again. 

The grounds of the Potter Estate were extensive, though not nearly as large as the Sanctuary below the manor. Hollia didn't manage to show Harry everything before the sun started to set, but he'd have time plenty to explore them.

 

The ground floor of the manor housed a ballroom, the dining room where Harry and Hollia had eaten dinner, several sitting rooms, and a room devoted to floo network arrivals. Hollia explained the floo to Harry in general terms - until he was older he'd always leave the Estate accompanied by a house elf, so he didn't need the details just now. The hidden door to the Sanctuary was also on the ground floor.

Up the marble staircase, the first floor housed the library, and Harry's eyes widened dramatically when he saw it. Bookshelves lined the walls and formed rows between them, all completely filled with volumes. The Potters' book collection was vast, and Hollia told an enraptured Harry about some of the rarer books it included. Books on creatures and potions made up the bulk of the library, but there were sections devoted to every branch of magic Harry could imagine as well as several he couldn't. 

Hollia managed to tear Harry away from the library with the promise that he'd be able to return as much as he wanted to, but it was late and the tour was almost finished. On the second floor there were guest rooms. Each one was larger than even Dudley's main bedroom at Privet Drive, and decorated in a different monochromatic theme. Hollia told him they were named, and decorated accordingly, so that guests and elves could easily be directed to the appropriate room. There was the Emerald Room, the Ruby Room, the Amethyst Room, the Onyx Room, the Sapphire Room, and the Pearl Room. Each of these rooms also had an attached bathroom. 

Harry and Hollia ascended to the third and final floor, and the magic immediately felt different to Harry. Hollia tells him that this floor housed the family suites, and that the house itself had a degree of sentience that allowed it to adjust to fit the residents' needs. The only constants on this floor were the Master Suite and Lord's Study, both of which were sealed until Harry took the Lordship, and the Heir's Suite, where Harry would sleep. The manor added other rooms as necessary to accommodate additional children, the Lord's parents, or other permanent residents. 

 

The Heir's Suite consisted of a sitting room, a bedroom, and a large bathroom. The whole thing was decorated in reds and golds, which Hollia told him was his father's doing when he'd lived in these rooms. "Gryffindor colors, your father's Hogwarts house. Your mother's, too. You can change it if you want."

The red was a bit garish, but Harry decided he'd rather keep the connection to his father. At least for now. Hollia smiled at him.

"That's the end of the tour, Harry. I asked the house elves earlier to make you a set of pajamas for tonight; they should be in your bathroom. If you need anything, don't hesitate to call Tatty, the Head Elf. Goodnight, Harry."

Harry smiled, sitting on the edge of the bed and testing its softness. It was  _wonderful_. "Goodnight, Hollia."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've read my WTJWD-verse, you may notice that the Potter Estate and Blackwood Hall are pretty similar on the inside. I basically have one way that I can picture large manor houses. Sorry, not sorry.


	4. Transition

The next day, Harry returned to Diagon Alley with Tatty. Ares came along in the form of a cat, their new familiar bond making it so neither wanted to be apart. Hollia told Harry that, over time, the need to be close to his familiar would ease but that they would always seek out each other’s company. A couple of the shop owners looked uneasily at Ares, unaccustomed to un-caged pets in their shop, but accepted his presence with the assurance that he was a bonded familiar and well-behaved. 

The goblins at Gringotts greeted Harry and Ares as warmly as they were capable, and Harry left not only with a bag of galleons but also with a charmed wallet that would allow him to make small withdrawals remotely and a summary of his finances. At Flourish and Blotts, Harry asked the clerk for recommendations for books on magical creatures. While the two spoke, the clerk found out Harry was muggle-raised and also sold him the basic books for muggle-born students - a book on quill use, an overview of the culture of the Wizarding World, basic Potions preparation, and  _ Hogwarts, a History _ . Between those, the full set of first year texts, and no less than six books on creatures, Harry spent a fair sum at Flourish and Blotts. The clerk graciously offered to charm Harry’s bag with a featherlight charm, but Tatty just popped the bag back to his room at the Estate. 

At the apothecary, Harry took a piece of advice from Hollia and asked the clerk to help him choose individual high-quality ingredients instead of buying a kit that would likely be stocked with a mixture of lesser ones. Harry also got a storage case that had stasis charms woven into it to keep the ingredients fresh and a cauldron that was warded against spills and outside interference. 

Harry’s next stop was Madame Malkin’s Robes for Every Occasion, where Harry ordered a set of school robes along with a full wardrobe of casual wear. Now that he knew he wouldn’t have to go back to the Dursleys’ house, he was determined never to wear Dudley’s cast-offs again. Ares had to be coaxed off of the perch he’d found on Harry’s shoulder when he stepped up on the stool at the back of the shop. While Harry was being measured, he met a dark-haired girl who introduced herself as Daphne Greengrass. Harry recognized the name as one Hollia had mentioned the day before, so he was careful to be as polite to her as he could possibly manage. Their conversation remained polite and distant, but as long as Harry didn’t alienate the heiress of one of his family’s allies he was satisfied. He'd only been in this world for a day, after all.

 

Harry’s final stop in Diagon Alley that day was Ollivander’s, and also the one Harry had most looked forward to. A  _ wand _ . Once he had his wand Harry would be able to really do magic, to learn to control the power that had been uncontrolled under his skin for as long as he could remember. And thanks to Hollia, Harry knew that the wards on the Potter Estate were powerful enough to overcome the Trace that prevented underage witches and wizards from doing magic outside of school. 

When Harry stepped into the wandmaker’s shop, he was a bit disoriented by the small space and dim lighting. The small, elderly man with haunting eyes who popped out from behind the shelves startled Harry rather thoroughly, causing him to chuckle. The old man’s eyes briefly flicked towards Ares with a meaningful expression, but he said nothing about the disguised Nundu. 

“Welcome, Mr. Potter. I’d expected to see you soon. You have your mother’s eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work." The eccentric wandmaker approached Harry, unblinking, while he spoke. His eyes really were unnerving. “Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it - it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course.”

Harry tried to put together a response, but Ollivander kept talking, his attention now drawn to Harry’s lightning bolt scar. 

“I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it,” he said softly. “Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands... well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do... But that’s neither here nor there, now. Tell me, which is your wand arm?”

“Er- I’m right-handed,” Harry replied awkwardly. 

The wandmaker began taking measurements of various parts of Harry’s body while explaining the process of finding your wand and the cores that he worked with. Finally he finished and approached the shelves, returning with several boxes.

At Ollivander’s prompting, Harry picked up the first wand. It was immediately snatched from his fingers and replaced with another, and then another. Harry began to get frustrated around the tenth wand, scowling fiercely, while Ollivander became more and more excited over the challenge he was faced with. He seemed particularly hopeful when handing Harry a holly and phoenix feather wand, but it still felt lacking in Harry’s hand. Not completely wrong, but not completely right. 

For the first time, Ollivander seemed disappointed by the rejection of a wand. "It would have been curious," he muttered as he turned back to the shelves.

Despite not knowing how many wandwoods Ollivander stocked, Harry was starting to feel like he’d tried every possible combination with the three cores the wandmaker had mentioned. Suddenly, the old man’s eyes lit up with an idea.  “Mr. Potter, I have in my possession several _heirloom_ wands which possess rarer cores than phoenix, unicorn, and dragon. Perhaps one of these wands will suit you.” 

Without a by-your-leave, the wandmaker disappeared into the back room and returned with an incredibly dusty crate. If the wands in the shop weren’t moved or dusted often, these seemed like they hadn’t been so much as looked at in years. 

The first wand Harry picked up from this crate left a warm tingling feeling rushing up his arm the moment it contacted his fingers. When he waved it, it sent out a shower of colorful sparks which danced on the walls and counter. Ollivander’s eyes lit up with joy, and Harry sighed in relief. 

“A curious wand, Mr. Potter, and one I wasn’t sure I’d ever sell. Applewood, eleven inches and unyielding with a core of fwooper feather. Apple is a gentle wood, perfect for outdoor magic, while fwooper feather is an exceedingly rare core that is excellent for Charms and Care of Magical Creatures but is rumored to drive its wielder mad.” Ollivander’s eyes flicked again to Ares. “I daresay you’ll have no issue with that particular risk, though. Unyielding wands are difficult to master, but amplify the wood’s power to its highest potential. As applewood makes a gentle wand, this ensures your wand will not fail to channel the degree of power you possess. Yes, as curious as it is this, wand should suit you perfectly. The cost is five galleons, a bit less than my standard wands as I wasn’t sure it would ever choose a wizard here.”

Harry nodded, taking in the wealth of information the wandmaker had dumped on him as he paid. He then thanked the odd man and left the shop, noticing that lunchtime had come and gone while he was inside the shop. Having nowhere else to go that day, Tatty popped Harry back to the Potter estate and promised him a meal as quickly as possible, which Harry requested in his room. The day had been exhausting, and Harry was looking forward to curling up with a good book and not moving for some time.

 

Harry spent the rest of the holiday reading and studying with Hollia. He devoured his books, starting with the muggle-born pack and his books on magical creatures, then being sure to at least skim through all of his textbooks. He tried a few of the charms in that textbook’s early chapters, just to get a feel for his wand, but didn’t spend very long on the practical aspects of magic for now. He didn't want to develop bad habits with no one around to correct him, and Hollia wasn't a witch so she had no experience with wandwork. 

Harry enjoyed the freedom he had here to read and learn. The public library in Little Whinging had been Harry’s escape from Dudley in his childhood, leaving him with a love of knowledge that he couldn’t properly express when his relatives punished him for out-performing his cousin.

With Hollia, Harry studied magical creatures and Potions. Potions, he learned, was his family’s secondary magical talent. The rest of the magical world believed it was the Potter family’s first and only talent, of course, because the beastmaster talent was a secret. The Potter family fortune had apparently been significantly increased by his great-grandfather’s invention of several revolutionary hair potions, Sleakeasy's. The Potters had always had uncooperative hair.

His magic predisposed him to a talent for Potion brewing, but that didn’t mean it would come to him without study and practice. Determined to develop every possible connection to his family, Harry threw himself as deeply as he could into the book on Potions preparation and the recipe book that was assigned for first year. By the time he needed to go to King’s Cross on September first, Harry had developed a natural feel for the differences between various ingredient preparation methods and passably brewed the first two months’ worth of the Hogwarts curriculum. 

The final thing Harry studied in-depth was Wizarding culture, and how it would apply to him as he interacted with his family’s allies and adversaries at Hogwarts. Planning to fully integrate himself into the Wizarding World, Harry was determined not to make any major mistakes. 

 

Harry packed his trunk carefully, glad he’d gotten one with multiple compartments and expansion charms to fit all of the books and clothes he’d bought. He also brought two rarer books from the Potter Estate library - one each on Potions and Magical Creatures. Harry dressed himself in a well-fitting pair of slacks and a soft jumper with an open robe, and used some of his great-grandfather’s inventions to tame his hair. After bidding Hollia goodbye Tatty popped him, his things, and Ares directly into Platform 9 ¾. Boarding the train, Harry was completely unaware of the family of redheads approaching the platform on the Muggle side, loudly discussing Hogwarts and looking for a confused boy with a mop of black hair they’d been told to expect.

On the train, Harry found an empty compartment and used his wand to cast  _ Winguardium Leviosa _ on his trunk. It lifted uneasily, shaking no small amount, but still making it to the luggage rack high over Harry’s head. He smiled in satisfaction and tucked his wand into the special pocket that was sewn into his robe sleeve, only to hear a gasp behind him. 

“That was very good!” said a girl with bushy hair standing in the doorway. “Are you a first year, too? My name is Hermione Granger.”

Harry smiled politely. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Harry Potter, and yes, I’m a first year.”

“Are you really Harry Potter? I’ve read about you! You’re in  _ Modern Magical History _ and  _ The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts  _ and  _ Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century _ .”

“Am I really? I admit I didn’t focus on history in the reading I did this summer. I imagine there isn’t much about me in those books, though, seeing as I haven’t done anything noteworthy since I was a baby.”

Hermione’s face fell briefly before she recovered. “You’re right, I suppose. I saw your levitation charm, have you done any other magic? I’ve tried a few of the simple spells, myself, and had success with them.”

“I practiced a few of the charms in our book, but I didn’t spend too much time on them because I didn’t want to risk developing bad habits with my wand work while there was no one to correct me. I also spent a lot of time on Potions this last month with a new tutor.” Hollia had told him to refer to her as such to anyone who didn’t know the Potter Secret, since giving any more detail about the situation to someone not in the know would be a headache and a half. 

Hermione took interest in Harry’s having a magical tutor, so he told her a bit about learning from Hollia while emphasizing the fact that he’d barely started studying with her before school. The two were still on the topic when a timid boy with a round face appeared in the doorway. “H-hello. My name’s Neville Longbottom. Can I sit with you two?”

Longbottom was one of the families involved in the Potter family secret, so Harry immediately slid closer to the back of the compartment and gestured Neville inside. “Nice to meet you. I’m Harry Potter, and this is Hermione Granger.”

Neville sat down, nodding hello nervously. Just as the compartment door was sliding closed, the toad Neville was holding hopped out of his hands.

“Trevor!” the boy called, panicked. Rather than making a break for it, however, the toad hopped farther into the compartment and sat on Harry’s foot. Neville sighed in relief. “This is Trevor. He was a gift from my Uncle Algie when I got my Hogwarts letter, but he’s always trying to run off. I’m surprised he wasn’t put off by your cat, honestly,” Neville said as he nodded towards Ares. 

Harry smiled, trying not to be offended on Ares’ behalf that Neville thought he was just a cat. That was the whole point of the shapeshifting ability. He knew that Trevor was attracted to him because of his beastmaster magic. “Animals usually like me,” he said in response. “This is Ares, my familiar.”

“You actually have a bond with him?” Neville asked, a hint of awe in his voice.

“I do. It formed on my birthday.”

“Congratulations. That’s really special.”

“What constitutes a familiar bond?” Hermione asked eagerly. Neville began explaining, and Harry let him take the lead. He wasn’t sure how much the bond he had with Ares was influenced by his Family magic, and didn’t want to let anything slip because he didn’t realize it wasn’t normal. When Neville finished explaining, Harry noted that the shapeshifting was the only familiar ability Ares had that Neville hadn’t mentioned. 

Twenty minutes after Neville’s arrival, a redhead with freckles and a bit of dirt on his nose shoved the compartment door open and cut Hermione off mid-sentence as he sat down. “Harry Potter, right? I’ve been searching the whole train for you!”

Before Harry could respond, Hermione turned a glare on the boy. “It is rude to interrupt. I was talking to Neville, and you didn’t even ask if you could sit with us or introduce yourself.”

The redhead seemed slightly offended by Hermione’s words, looking around the compartment as if looking for sympathy. “She’s got a point,” said Harry. 

With a put-upon sigh, the boy said. “Name’s Ron Weasley. Mind if I sit with you all? Everywhere else is full.”

The three who were already in the compartment shared a look, and Harry shrugged before turning to Ron. “Sure, you can sit with us.” He then looked back to Hermione. “So, you were talking about how excited you are for Transfiguration?”

Hermione grinned, then launched back into her explanation of how interesting she found the idea of turning one thing into another, and her curiosity about how the magic interacted with muggle science concepts she’d learned growing up. A glance at Ron showed that his eyes were glazing over, clearly uninterested in their conversation. When Hermione finished, Neville mentioned that he was most looking forward to Herbology. Harry was unsurprised by this, knowing that the Longbottoms were originally brought into the Family Mission because of their talent in the subject. When it was Harry’s turn, he said he was most looking forward to Potions.

Ron finally had some input then, snorting loudly. “Snape, the Potions professor, is a total git according to my brothers.”

“You shouldn’t talk about a professor that way!” Hermione said, scandalized.

“Well it’s true. He assigns detentions constantly, and hates anyone in Gryffindor on principle while favoring the slimy snakes.”

“Snakes?” Harry asked.

“Y’know, Slytherins. A nasty bunch. All evil tossers.”

Harry’s expression darkened slightly. “I haven’t met any Slytherins yet, but it hardly seems fair to say they’re all the same. Especially when you’re saying something so negative. I find it hard to believe that kids our age or only a little older can really be evil.”

Ron snorted again. “Whatever, you’ll see.”

Hermione seemed to make the executive decision to ignore Ron. “So, Harry, why is it you think you’ll like Potions so much?”

“Well, I told you I’ve been practicing with my tutor. Once I got the techniques down, I find it really relaxing. Plus, I’ve been cooking for years, and I really like that Potions is basically cooking with magic involved.”

“I’m a bit nervous for Potions, myself,” said Neville. He glanced nervously towards Ron. “I’ve also heard the professor isn’t very patient, and I’ve never been very talented at it with my own tutors…”

Harry had already noticed that Neville’s confidence could use a boost. He didn’t know the other boy well yet, but so far he liked him so he wanted to try to lift him up. “Maybe we could help each other. I bet you’ll be great at Herbology, so I could help you with Potions if you help me with that class. I’ve done a bit of gardening the muggle way, but I know it’ll hardly compare.”

Neville smiled at that. Harry, deciding to give Ron another chance, asked him what subjects he was looking forward to. 

“I dunno. Quidditch?”

Hermione frowned. “First years can’t play on the House teams, and Quidditch isn’t even a class if we could.”

Ron shrugged. “We have flying lessons, though. We’ll probably play some Quidditch drills there. Classes are going to be boring, if you ask me.”

Given the enthusiastic conversation Harry, Hermione, and Neville had been having about their subjects, it should have been clear to Ron that none of them could relate. There was an awkward silence for a bit before Neville asked, “What houses do you think we’ll be sorted in?”

“I’ll be a Gryffindor, obviously. Weasleys always are,” replied Ron immediately. 

Harry barely kept from rolling his eyes. 

“I’ve thought that both Gryffindor and Ravenclaw sound nice,” added Hermione. 

“Both my parents were Gryffindors, I think Gran really wants me to be one too,” offered Neville. “What about you, Harry?”

“I’m not sure. I kind of want to wait and see.”

Ron snorted. It was apparently a common occurrence with him. “You’ll be a Gryffindor for sure. You’re a hero! The Boy-Who-Lived! Plus, both your parents were Gryffindors. It runs in families.”

“Well,” Harry said awkwardly, “I’ve never really met my parents, you know, so I’m not sure how much that really matters. And I don’t think I’m really a hero. I’d rather stay out of trouble most of the time.”

Ron looked absolutely affronted by the idea of staying out of trouble, but before he could say anything else the compartment door opened to reveal a plump witch with a food trolley. Ron and Hermione both rejected the offer of sweets for different reasons. Neville bought a couple of pumpkin pasties, while Harry bought a bit of everything. When the compartment door closed again, Harry grinned sheepishly.

“I’ve never had any of these, so I really just want to try them. You can all have some, too. There’s no way I could eat it all.”

Ron immediately dove into the pile of sweets Harry had bought, causing Hermione to roll her eyes at him while he wasn’t looking. After a moment of thought, she did take a pumpkin pasty - probably the least sugary treat in the lot.

The rest of the train ride passed peacefully enough, with Ron distracted by the food and Harry and Hermione commenting on the novelty of things like the animated chocolate frogs and Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans. Neville admitted to the unpopular opinion that Cockroach Clusters were the best candy, and Harry shoved the open package of them over. He hadn't cared for them. 

Ten minutes from Hogwarts, Hermione stepped out to the loo so that everyone could change into their school robes. 


	5. Sorting

While the new first years waited to be sorted, a haughty blond boy named Malfoy introduced himself to Harry. Harry noted the disdainful look given to the people he'd shared a compartment with on the train. “I think we might have different ideas of who the wrong sort is, Malfoy,” Harry said as politely as he could. 

Malfoy wasn't convinced by Harry's politeness and scoffed before turning away. 

“He’ll be a snake,” muttered Ron.

“That still doesn't mean that every Slytherin is the same,” Harry replied evenly. He was already getting fed up with the redhead, who seemed to want to steer every conversation towards Quidditch or the evils of Slytherins. 

 

The Great Hall was amazing. It was bright and warm, and the charmed ceiling was gorgeous. Hermione chattered excitedly about  _ Hogwarts, A History _ as they entered. If he weren't so amazed himself, he might have found it a little annoying. As it was, he could sympathize with her enthusiasm. The sorting hat sang, much to Harry's delight. He noticed, though, that even the ancient artifact seemed a bit uncomplimentary towards the house of cunning and ambition. Did everyone in the Wizarding World really think that a quarter of its children were up to no good or destined to be evil? 

Harry had no hope of remembering everyone's sorting, but he paid special attention to the people he'd met or who his family was allied with. Hermione was first to be sorted from that group, and went to Ravenclaw. She seemed disappointed for half a second before heading to the blue and bronze table. Next was Daphne Greengrass, who he remembered from the robe shop in Diagon Alley, sorted in Slytherin. Neville went to Gryffindor much to his own relief, and Malfoy and Nott both became Slytherins. 

 

Harry went up to the stool to the sound of excited whispers when his name was called. 

_ What do we have, here?  _ the hat said into his mind.  _ An interesting mind, rather difficult to sort. The Headmaster was adamant this morning that I sort you into Gryffindor, but it doesn't seem the best fit for you. You're no coward, but your boldness is hardly what you value most. You are fair and loyal, but too selectively so for Hufflepuff I believe. So, Slytherin or Ravenclaw? You have ambition, and could learn the politics of Slytherin, but you also have a wonderful thirst for knowledge. If you were going to continue to hide it you could never be a Raven- _

_ You won't tell anyone that I had to hide it, will you?  _ Harry was a bit panicked as he realized the sorting hat could tell what his childhood with the Dursleys was like.

_ I cannot tell any of your secrets, child, for better or for worse. Even to the Headmaster. _

_ Oh, good. _

_ Hm, yes, I think it had better be  _ RAVENCLAW!

 

After Harry joined Hermione at the Ravenclaw table and Ron Weasley was sorted into Gryffindor, Harry began getting to know his housemates. All of them liked Ares, and the magical-raised students were suitably impressed when he confirmed once again that they had a familiar bond. Harry smirked to himself at the thought of them meeting Ares’ true form.

The girls besides Hermione were Padma Patil, Lisa Turpin, Su Li, and Isobel MacDougal. The boys besides Harry were Terry Boot, Michael Corner, Anthony Goldstein, Stephen Cornfoot, and Oliver Rivers. Harry noted briefly that Ravenclaw house seemed larger than any of the others that year. 

Sue and Padma were both the first in their families to go to Hogwarts, though Padma had a twin in Gryffindor, and they bonded quickly over being raised in the United Kingdom with their parents’ cultures. Isobel, Anthony, and Lisa all had relatives working in the Ministry of Magic and knew each other already from childhood social events. Oliver was muggle-born, and he, Harry, and Hermione all discussed their introduction to the magical world. Harry heavily edited his story, telling them only that he'd grown up with muggle relatives and recently moved to his family's ancestral home. That left Terry, Michael, and Stephen to discuss their favorite subjects, a conversation which slowly drew in the rest of the new Ravenclaws. 

By the end of the feast, the novelty of having Harry Potter sitting with them had worn off for the wizarding-raised students and Harry felt like he could get along with all of his housemates. Penelope Clearwater and Robert Hilliard, the fifth year prefects, led them all to their common room. 

 

The stairs to Ravenclaw tower were conveniently close to the library, Harry noted happily. That was likely by design. To get into the common room, they would have to answer a riddle for the eagle-shaped door knocker. Penelope told them that the knocker would accept creative answers, but that each student only got one try to solve the riddle and if they were incorrect they would have to wait for someone else to come and answer. Today's riddle was  _ Many have heard me but none have seen me, and I will not speak until spoken to _ , which Robert answered with “an echo". 

Inside, the common room was a large circular room with arching windows evenly spaced around it that overlooked the mountains, gardens, forest, lake, and quidditch pitch. Blue and bronze silks hung from the ceiling, fluttering in the slight breeze from the windows. Where the ceiling was visible it appeared to be covered in stars, but Harry quickly realized that it was reflecting the midnight blue carpet. Bookshelves stood against the walls between windows, and the furniture was a mixture of sofas and study tables. Between two staircases stood a marble statue of a woman in a tiara, engraved with the saying “Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure.”

The six prefects introduced themselves. In addition to the fifth years that had guided them, there were sixth years Gilbert Davies and Jenna McAdams and seventh years Daniel Dulpeak and Emily Holmes. 

They told the first years that the staircases on each side of the statue of Rowena Ravenclaw were their dormitories, the rules for the shared books on the shelves (harder material is placed higher up, re-shelve everything in the proper place, don't leave the common room with house books, and no defacement), and the times for meals and free study. They also expressed that they were available any time to give help, but that the sixth years should be the first ones they went to as they didn't have OWLs or NEWTs to study for. A list of older students willing to tutor would be posted during the second week of classes, and the prefects would guide them through the halls for the first. With that, the tired first years were sent off to bed.

Their trunks were already at the foot of each bed, so Harry said a quick thank you to the house elves before brushing his teeth and changing into pajamas. The other boys gave him an odd look, but he just said that he liked to treat all creatures with respect. Ares made himself comfortable at the foot of Harry's bed, and both fell asleep almost immediately. 


	6. First Year - Part 1

Harry quickly became good friends with Isobel MacDougal and Anthony Goldstein. Hermione Granger was a bit annoying at first, filling every conversation with information regurgitated from books, but after a couple of weeks spent with others who enjoyed learning as much as she did she settled down. She began to up on other methods of relating to her peers and dig deeper into her topics of study, considering them critically instead of quoting books constantly. After that, she fit neatly into Harry's group of friends and three became four. 

Harry was invited to Hagrid’s home for tea, and they cleared up what had happened in Diagon Alley with no hard feelings. Hagrid was a bit obsessed with Dumbledore, and kept making awkward mentions of a break in at Gringott’s and Nicholas Flamel then panicking that he'd said too much, but he was kind. 

Ron continued to pester Harry and his friends during meals and between classes, making derisive comments about ‘Ravenclaw swots’ and suggesting Harry spend time with ‘proper’ Gryffindor friends instead, but Harry brushed him off. They had very little in common, as the redhead despised learning and studying and Harry's interest in quidditch was minimal, and Harry had no time to spend with someone so rude. Ron was baffled by Harry's rejection, but kept up with his campaign with no changes.

 

Classes were easy enough, though Professor Snape gave Harry grief every Potions lesson. From the first one, Snape had grilled Harry on advanced topics and been digruntled and angry when Harry had gotten them right. He seemed to take special pleasure in berating Harry over the other students in the class, and docked points from Ravenclaw for every excuse he could manage. Harry was glad he'd invested in a cauldron that was warded against others' interferences, because it kept Snape from vanishing his still-salvageable brews after he'd made a mistake. When the vanishing spell had glanced off the wards, Snape had nearly growled and deducted more points from Ravenclaw. 

Harry made up those points as much as he could in other classes, doing every extra credit assignment and always being ready to answer any question the professors asked. No one in Ravenclaw blamed Harry for the point losses once they knew the situation - Snape was widely considered the worst teacher at Hogwarts, or at least tied for the honor with Binns. 

Harry, like most Ravenclaws, did self-study for History and used the class to read. Binns' lectures followed the book closely enough that if you read the chapters there was no need to take notes. Once Harry had read the relevant History chapters for the week, he could be found reading his books on creatures. In weeks, he'd run out and had to scour the library for more.

Professor Quirrell's stuttering seemed to give Harry headaches, which was irritating. It was manageable, though, and the class was easy. Quirrell also didn't seem to favor anyone in the Ravenclaw-Hufflepuff class more or less than the others, so some headaches were nothing compared to the figurative ones Harry got from Snape. 

Dumbledore gave Harry odd, calculating looks whenever they crossed paths, and Harry was reminded of what the sorting hat had said about the Headmaster during his sorting. When Harry showed high levels of achievement in his classes and got along easily with his peers, the looks grew more significant. 

 

On Halloween, the feast was interrupted by Professor Quirrell screaming that there was a troll in the dungeons. Once Harry, Hermione, Isobel, and Anthony made it back to Ravenclaw tower with the rest of their housemates, Harry holed himself up in the bathroom and used his ring to contact Hollia. 

“There's a mountain troll in the castle. Should I be concerned about that?”

“Are all the students somewhere safe?” Hollia asked, with a note of concern in her voice. 

“Yeah, they sent everyone to our common rooms. I'm in the bathroom in the tower right now.”

“Alright," she replied, relieved, "Just worry about staying safe, Harry. Mountain trolls breed like mad, they have no need for the preserve, and while your family magic would protect you they can be dangerous.”

“Alright, thanks, Hollia”

“Any time, Harry.” Hollia’s voice contained affection and longing, and Harry vowed silently to write to her. He remembered how broken up she had seemed when they talked about his childhood away from the Estate, and realized she probably missed him. 

The teachers took hours to find the troll, which had moved on from the dungeons to a girl's bathroom on the first floor, while the house elves served what was left of the feast in the house common rooms. In the end, it was subdued with only minor injuries and removed from the castle, and life went on. 

The next day, Harry was again subjected to odd looks from Headmaster Dumbledore and clumsy rudeness from Ron.

 

Harry got all Os on his winter exams, except in Potions where Snape gave him an entirely unfair A, and made plans to go back to the Estate for Christmas. Christmas with the Dursleys had always been a miserable time for Harry, but Hollia seemed like she really cared about him and Harry was sure that the house elves would love to have their young master to cook for again. 

The Headmaster called Harry to his office after the sign up for students staying in the castle had gone around, and he went with some trepidation. He brought Ares along for comfort.

“Harry, my boy, come in! Have a seat. Lemon drop?” 

Harry wasn't particularly fond of sour candies and refused. He also thought the Headmaster's familiarity with him was a bit odd, given they'd never spoken before. All his professors called him Mr. Potter, and classmates he wasn't close to tended to call him Potter. Except Ron, of course. 

“I just wanted to check in with you, Harry, see how you're adjusting to the magical world.”

Harry's sense of someone's intentions was well developed after years living with the Dursleys, and though the headmaster acted friendly something felt- off. “I'm doing well, Headmaster,” he replied politely.

“Yes, I've noticed that you received excellent exam results. What do you do to earn them?”

That was an odd question. “I just study hard, sir. My friends help. Ravenclaws, you know.”

“Yes, I must say I was surprised. A child of two Gryffindors sorted into Ravenclaw is unique, and you seem to be fitting in well there.”

Harry shrugged and tried to act casually. “I had a different childhood than either of my parents, I think.” Memories flashed through his mind of days spent hiding out in the library at Privet Drive until Harry was distracted by a trill from the phoenix in the corner of the room and glanced towards it. It seemed to be calling out to him. Harry wondered if it was due to his beastmaster magic.

He was still examining the beautiful bird when Dumbledore asked, “You aren't staying in the castle for the holidays, my boy?”

“No, I'm expected home.” Harry wasn't sure if the Headmaster knew he'd moved in to the Estate, but he wasn't volunteering the information. 

“Another surprise. Holidays at Hogwarts are quite marvelous," Dumbledore told him in a teasing sort of tone.

“I'm sure they are, sir, but I won't be staying.”

“I see." He sounded put-out that Harry wouldn't consider a Hogwarts Christmas this year. "I've noticed that Ronald Weasley has made many attempts to befriend you, Harry. It's quite rude to evade him as you have. The Weasleys are a good family.”

Harry looked back at Dumbledore, the phoenix having finally lost his interest. “We just don't have much in common, sir, and he's rude to my friends.” He thought of the various occasions when Ron had insulted his friends in the halls and the awkward conversation about classes on the train.

“All the same, you ought to give the boy a chance.”

“I'll keep that in mind, sir,” Harry replied uncertainly. 

The headmaster sighed. “Well, that is all, my boy. Have a good holiday, and give Petunia my best.”

Harry nodded, giving the headmaster an odd look. “Happy holidays, sir.”

Harry rubbed away a slight headache as he made his way down the spiral staircase. 

 

Back in Ravenclaw tower, he discussed the odd meeting with his friends. Even Hermione, who worshipped authority figures like gods, agreed something was off. Headmasters didn't regularly meet with just one student to ask them questions about their holiday plans and stellar grades, nor did they try to arrange friendships. 

Isobel and Anthony seemed concerned about Harry leaving the office with a headache, but Harry was sure it was only irritation. After all, Quirrell gave him headaches too. He shrugged them off, and asked Isobel about the latest book she'd checked out from the library. It was a Muggle Studies text, and Harry was curious what purebloods studied about muggles. He and Hermione ended up laughing about how basic and out of date it was, while Isobel questioned them for better information. 


	7. First Year - Christmas

Christmas at the Potter estate was everything Harry could have hoped for. The manor was decorated with holly and ivy and icicles that didn't melt, each meal was practically a feast, and for the first time in his memory Harry had presents to open on Christmas morning. 

Harry's friends in Ravenclaw sent him books - mainly about magical creatures, which made Harry grin. Hollia gave him new clothes and books and a leatherbound journal with the Potter crest embossed on the front. Each of his allied families had sent him a simple gift - luxury quills and sweets. The Longbottoms sent a slightly nicer gift - a portable herb garden - which made sense since Harry was acquainted with Neville, however loosely. He was glad Hollia had advised him to send each family something and helped him choose appropriate gifts from an owl order catalog when he arrived. 

Harry also got a sweater and fudge from Ron Weasley’s mum, which was odd since he'd never met her and wasn't close with anyone in the family, but he supposed it was nice enough a gesture. 

There was another odd gift, wrapped in plain paper. His father's invisibility cloak, with an unsigned note saying to ‘use it well’. Hollia told him it was delivered by a plain barn owl late the night before, and she couldn't say who might have had it all these years but it was, in fact, a Potter family heirloom. This invisibility cloak had been in the Potter family since before the founding of the Estate. Harry doubted his father had left something so precious with someone else before he died, and wondered who could have taken it and why.

 

The day after Christmas, Harry was summoned to Gringott’s. Tatty brought him immediately after breakfast, and he was shown to a meeting room to meet Ragnok.

“Hello, Mr. Potter.”

“Hello, sir.”

“I've asked you to come in today because Gornuk and the healers have made progress on identifying the foreign presence in your core that was discovered this summer. It is a fragment of another wizard's soul." He paused. "Voldemort's soul, in fact.”

Harry paled. He had a bit of Voldemort inside him? “Can your healers get rid of it?”

Ragnok looked at Harry over his tented fingers. “Typically, a piece of soul that is separated from its host is destroyed when the vessel is. As that is not an option in this case, the Goblin Nation’s best healers and researchers will work together to devise a specialized ritual to remove the piece from you while leaving you alive. Because of your family's status with the Nation, we will do this at no cost to you.”

“Thank you, sir.” A little of the tension relaxed out of Harry's shoulders. The soul piece wasn't gone yet, but he trusted the goblins to find a way.

“Indeed, Mr. Potter. Today, I'd like for you to allow Gornuk and Sharptooth, our head researcher, to examine the soul piece in order to devise the ritual.

“Of course, sir. Please.”

Harry was again led to the ritual chamber where he'd been cleansed over the summer and told to lie down in the crystal circle. The ritual this time wasn't painful, but he felt oddly empty while the goblins extracted a bright light from him and examined it. Like the examination Harry had had over the summer, the light was the same shade of green as his eyes with a black spot towards the center. That must be the piece of Voldemort.

 

Once the light had faded and the emptiness was gone, Harry and the three goblins returned to the meeting room.

“It is certainly a horcrux, a soul piece,” said Sharptooth. “Based on the size it is one of seven, not counting the main soul. Not that there would be much left with seven horcruxes. Mr. Potter's soul is the opposite to the horcrux, pure where the foreign soul is tainted, so removal should be simple enough. Mr. Potter's soul has rejected the horcrux, and it does not appear to have altered him in any way. A ritual will be devised by summer.”

“Thank you, Sharptooth,” Ragnok replied. Harry got the feeling that Ragnok had a lot of status among the goblins, as both Sharptooth and Gornuk seemed to defer to him. The two goblins left, leaving alone Harry with Ragnok. “Do you understand the implications of this discovery, Mr. Potter?”

“No, sir, not exactly.”

“Put simply, it means that Voldemort is not dead. A horcrux, like what you have unwittingly carried, is a magical means of preserving one's life when the body is killed. It damages and taints the soul, however, and breaks the mind. The Goblin Nation abhors this type of magic on principle.”

“It sounds pretty awful,” Harry agreed, feeling sick.

“Worry not, Mr. Potter. The ritual will be devised, and the horcrux will be destroyed without harm to you. You will be summoned this summer when it is ready.”

“Thank you, sir.” After bowing to Ragnok, Harry activated his portkey to go home, Tatty having left him in the goblins’ care after delivering him to the bank.

 

Harry spent more than a fair amount of his break studying potions. He'd ranted to Hollia about Snape's unfair treatment and grading, and together they'd decided that he'd need to self-study potions between terms if he wanted to be good at the subject. It was only because Hollia had done the first two months of the curriculum with him that Harry had kept up during the fall - learning from Snape was impossible. 

 

The last day before the end of the winter break, Harry approached Hollia with a question. “Hollia? If a wizard dies young, what happens to their familiar?”

“If the familiar survives its master, it will live its normal lifespan, except in extreme cases where its bond was so close that it allows itself to die to follow its master. Why do you ask, Harry?”

“I was just wondering what happened to my parents’ familiars.”

Hollia got an thoughtful look on her face. “They would have lost their ability to shapeshift when the bond was broken. Your father's familiar was a phoenix, so Fawkes is surely still out there though I'm not sure where. Your mother had a kneazle, very ordinary by Potter standards. She'd only be about fourteen years old now, so I'm sure Azalea is still alive." She paused. "In fact, Azalea had taken a liking to your neighbor in Godric’s Hollow if I remember correctly from your father's letters. Would you like to pay her a visit?”

Harry nodded vigorously, and in minutes Tatty was popping him to what was once his home. The cottage was a ruin, half the roof having caved in, and Harry froze up looking at it. Powerful wards prevented him from entering the property, and a plaque proclaimed it as a Ministry-endorsed memorial site. While Harry fought back tears, the elderly woman next door approached him.

“Harry? Is that you?”

He turned to her, blinking furiously. “Y-yeah, I'm Harry.”

She shook his hand gently. “I'm Bathilda Bagshot, your old neighbor.”

“Oh, hi." He sniffed a bit. "I think it's actually you I'm here to see.”

“Oh? Why don't you come inside, then. Have some tea or cocoa and warm up a bit.”

“Yeah, that would be nice.”

Harry followed Bathilda back to her own house. Harry wondered how she could stand living next door to a ruined memorial. “Did you come alone?" she asked him. "How did you get all the way out here?”

Harry shook his head. “Tatty brought me, ma’am.”

“Oh, just call me Bathilda, or Batty if you prefer. All my friends do.”

Harry smiled. “Thank you, Bathilda.”

Conversation paused while Bathilda made up drinks for the two of them. Once she sat down with the tea tray, She spoke again. “Now, what can I do for you, Harry?”

Harry took a sip of his hot chocolate. “I found out today that my mum’s familiar, Azalea, was rather fond of you. I was wondering if you knew what had happened to her.”

“Oh, dear me," Bathilda chuckled, "Azaela is still hanging around. She wanders the neighborhood most of the time, a free spirit just like your mother, but she comes back here each night.”

“Really?" Harry asked, eyes bright, "Could I meet her?”

“Of course, Harry. She's out and about right now, but she'll be back here in an hour or two.”

Harry grinned brightly. “That's brilliant, thank you.”

“Of course, dear." Bathilda set down her teacup and leaned forward. "Now in the meantime, would you care to visit your parents’ graves? I haven't seen you around, so I take it you haven't been. It's just up the road, and I could show you the way.”

Harry swallowed a lump in his throat. “I wouldn't want to trouble you.”

“It would be no trouble, dear. I visit a few times each year to make sure the graves are taken care of, and with the weather lately I'm overdue. Now, if you don't feel up to it don't let me pressure you.”

Harry shook his head. “No, I'd like to see them.”

“Very well, dear.”

 

The graves were white marble, engraved with his parents’ names and dates of birth and death. Seeing it written down like that was the first time Harry realized how  _ young _ his parents had died. They were only twenty-one. He was eleven now, and couldn't imagine only having ten years left to live. Especially now that things were finally getting better for him. 

While Harry knelt at the graves, a black cat with a white tufted tail and a lynx's ears came up to him and rubbed on his leg. Not a cat, a kneazle. Harry looked at it, and felt her call to him. “Azalea?”

The kneazle chirruped, and climbed up on Harry's lap. He chuckled, and ran his fingers through her warm fur.

“I daresay she’d like to go home with you, if you've got the room for her.”

Harry jumped, having forgotten Bathilda was behind him, and Azalea gave him a _look_ for disturbing her place on his legs. “Are you sure?" he asked, as he soothed Azalea with a few gentle strokes. "You've taken care of her all these years. I didn't come to take her from you, only to see what happened to her.”

Bathilda smiled kindly. “You're a good boy, Harry. I've fed Azalea and given her a warm, dry house, yes, but she's never been mine. Besides that, she'll live another fifteen years, at _least_ , and I haven't got that long left in these old bones.”

“O-okay. I'm living at the Estate. I have my own familiar, so I can't bring her to school, but if you think she'll be happy there, I'll take her.”

Bathilda smiled kindly, and cast several charms to clean and protect the graves they visited before conjuring some flowers for them. Harry stood, picking Azalea up, and they walked back to Bathilda’s house together. Harry had another cup of cocoa and chatted a while longer before using his portkey to go home with a promise to visit again.

 

Ares greeted Harry as soon as he came home, in his true form as he preferred to be on the Estate. It took some time for the kneazle and the nundu to warm up to each other, but both were Potter familiars and the magic served to smooth things over quickly enough. Harry spent his last night at the Estate curled up by the fire with both feline familiars, reading one of his new books. 


	8. First Year - Part 2

Harry's first night back at school, he was struck during dinner with the impulse to go wandering under his cloak that night, but he brushed the thought away. Harry wasn't the type to break curfew - he needed his sleep to perform well in classes. When he tried to go to bed, the impulse only grew stronger, keeping him awake. Harry tossed and turned and by the time his roommates were asleep, wandering under the cloak was all he could think about. He threw his covers off, disgruntled with this odd obsession, and dug his invisibility cloak from his trunk. Throwing it over himself, Harry slipped out of the dorms and into the corridor unnoticed.

 

Harry followed his feet, paying no attention to where he was going, until he arrived at the forbidden third floor corridor. He was unlocking the door to go inside before he thought about it. 

Inside, there was a cerberus. The great, three-headed dog growled at him for a half-second before seeming to change its mind and laying down, docile under the effects of Harry's family magic. Harry noticed the trap door under its foot, and assumed it must be guarding something. He didn't think this room was proper accommodation for a cerberus, but it was the middle of the night and the dog seemed content enough for the moment. He'd ask Hollia tomorrow. 

Harry slipped back out of the room and re-locked the door, calm as ever, and continued wandering. Next, he stumbled into an abandoned classroom where an ornate mirror stood in the middle. The room was coated in dust, but the mirror was pristine. It had been put here recently. 

Harry slowly went up to examine the mirror, wondering why it was in a classroom of all places, and took note of the strange words across the top. When he caught his reflection, he gasped. The mirror showed him with Ares, in his natural form, and behind him stood his parents with their own familiars. The longer he looked, the more people appeared in the background. Each shared some of his features, and had an unusual familiar. This was his family.

Harry sat in front of the mirror and watched them, soaking up the gentle touches and smiles between these people who could have loved him had they survived. He lost track of how long he stared into the mirror before he heard a voice behind him. 

“Have you figured out what it does?”

Harry jumped, and turned to face the headmaster. “I'm sorry, sir, I know it's past curfew. I just felt the need to come here and I couldn't resist.”

“It's quite alright, Harry," Dumbledore chuckled knowingly. "We all feel the need to wander sometimes. I find it clears my head.” He turned his attention back to the mirror. “The Mirror of Erised. ‘I show not your face, but your heart's desire.’ You see your family, do you not?”

“Yes, sir.”

“The Mirror of Erised is a great temptation. Men have wasted away before it, watching the things they long for given to them with no chance for failure or rejection. But it does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, my boy.”

“I'm sorry, sir. But why is it here?”

“This is only a temporary placement. Tomorrow, the mirror will be moved to its new home. I ask that you do not go looking for it again, Harry.”

The headmaster actually sounded like he very much wanted Harry to look for it, but Harry agreed not to with no trouble. He hadn't even wanted to come out tonight. The headmaster then bid him goodnight, and he found he could finally return to Ravenclaw tower with a peaceful mind and get some sleep.

 

Hollia recommended finding out who owned the cerberus and asking them about its care, as owning one required licensing and training and it was likely that the cerberus was getting attention he wasn't aware of. By the time Harry found out that Hagrid owned Fluffy, there were bigger problems to deal with. Namely, that Hagrid had hatched a dragon egg.

“You live in a wooden hut. A hut the size of a dragon. Within a year, a Norwegian Ridgeback will be too big to fit inside your house and need to eat a cow every day - that's if by some miracle your  _ wooden _ hut doesn't burn down before then.”

Hagrid was too busy cooing at Norbert to listen.

“Owning a dragon is illegal, and within six months it'll be too big to keep hidden.”

No response. Harry threw his hands in the air, said an unanswered goodbye, and went to contact Hollia. 

“A dragon?” she asked, aghast once Harry explained the situation. 

“And he absolutely refuses to listen to reason. He's to caught up in it to even respond to my points about it being dangerous.”

Hollia sighed. “I'll get a team from our Romanian dragon reserve on alert for when he does see sense. Hopefully whatever happens to open his eyes isn't too disastrous.”

“Alright.”

“In the meantime, keep your distance. To you, a hatchling is more dangerous than a full-grown dragon. Your family magic doesn't protect you from  _ accidents _ involving creatures, and hatchlings don't have full control over their fire.”

 

Two weeks later, during which time Hagrid was only seen for meals and Harry didn't go to visit him, Hagrid’s hut caught fire. Several teachers immediately went to aid him in dousing the flames, but without knowing it was dragonfire their attempts were ineffective. While less intense than fiendfyre, dragonfire burned hotter took more to put out than regular flames. The hut burned to the ground before the blaze could be contained and Norbert was seen flying overhead. 

Harry, watching from Ravenclaw tower, took that as his cue and contacted Hollia. Whether Hagrid would agree or not, the dragon was exposed to the public and his family's reserve was the only one Harry trusted. In fifteen minutes, the team was there. They safely caught the dragon hatchling, which they determined was actually female, and transported her to the reserve before anyone else could react to the news.

 

Hagrid was sacked, at the insistence of the Board of Governors. A man who willingly brought an illegal XXXXX creature onto Hogwarts grounds, especially given he’d apparently been expelled for a similar offense, could not be employed by the school. Dumbledore argued for the half-giant and somehow spared him criminal charges, but the Board would not be moved.

Harry was conflicted. Hagrid clearly loved and revered creatures, even if he lacked a healthy respect for their dangerous side. After a talk with Hollia, it was agreed he would be offered a position with either the Estate or its dragon reserve -  _ after  _ a training course on appropriate safety. Harry also transported Fluffy, who had been left behind in the chaos of Hagrid's removal from the grounds, to the Estate where the house elves had an appropriate habitat constructed within the preserve in minutes. Hagrid would be allowed to visit the cerberus he’d raised from a puppy once he was employed by the Potter family and the necessary security and secrecy measures were in place.

 

Coming back from delivering Fluffy to the Estate, Harry was caught out of bounds after curfew.  _ Why  _ hadn't he thought to wear his invisibility cloak. He was given detention - going with Bertram Cattermole, the new groundskeeper, into the Forbidden Forest to look for something that was killing unicorns.

Privately, Harry thought that was a terrible idea for a detention. He didn't argue, as his beastmaster magic would protect him from any creature living in the forest, but the school didn't know that. He was eleven! And then Cattermole actually suggested they split up! It was like they were  _ trying  _ to put him in as much danger as possible. 

And so, Harry was on his own when he found an injured unicorn and the hooded figure bent over it. When the figure looked up, silvery blood visible on its chin and robes, and advanced on Harry he knew he was in serious trouble. Blinding pain shot through his scar, bringing him to his knees. 

Harry thought he was done for when a centaur reared between him and the advancing figure, driving it off. Harry wanted to save the unicorn, but he could tell it was already dead. The magic surrounding its body was fading. Firenze, the centaur who’d saved him, brought him back to the forest’s edge. 

“What was that? It was no creature. Who would resort to drinking a unicorn’s blood?”

“You know the consequences, young beastmaster?”

Harry nodded. “A cursed life, in punishment for killing something pure for selfish reasons.”

“Can you think of no one who would want to live at any cost?” Firenze asked, looking meaningfully at Harry's scar.

Harry thought back to the conversation with the goblins over break. “Do you mean that was  _ Vol- _ "

Their conversation was cut off by the arrival of Cattermole. “Stay safe, young Potter. You have a duty.”

Harry nodded dumbly as Firenze took off back into the forest without acknowledging the groundskeeper, who was muttering about how odd it was for the centaur to speak so respectfully to a human. Once Harry was safely back in his dorm he contacted Hollia, desperate for reassurance despite the late hour. She reiterated the need for him to stay safe as it was unlikely Voldemort was alone, and he promised to be careful before falling into a deep sleep. 

 

Harry kept his promise, staying with his group of friends and in well-traveled areas of the castle, until one night during dinner when Harry got the same strange impulse to go wandering he'd felt when he came back to school in January. Exams were past and there were no classes, so Harry had nothing to occupy his thoughts. Before bed, he contacted Hollia.

“It sounds like a compulsion charm,” she replied with a frown in her voice after he explained what he was feeling. “Why didn't you tell me about this the first time it happened?”

“I was distracted by everything I saw that night,” Harry replied sheepishly, “and nothing bad happened to me then so it was easy to forget why I was out of bed.”

“Fight it, Harry. It's not safe for you to be out of bed at night, and we don't know who is trying to lure you out or what they want.”

Harry agreed, and tried to go to bed. He fought the compulsion as hard as he could, but he was only eleven and had no defenses against something like this. Finally, it grew to be too much and he grabbed his cloak and left the tower at almost a run.

 

Before he knew it, Harry found himself at the third floor corridor where he'd discovered Fluffy. Ron Weasley was there, looking like he'd been waiting awhile. Harry wanted to question his presence, but the compulsion was pushing him to keep going.  _ Save the stone from Snape _ , echoed in the back of Harry's mind for no apparent reason. Harry had briefly entertained the idea that Snape worked for Voldemort, given how much he hated Harry, but he didn't know what stone this could be referring to, or why Snape would want it.

 

The room behind the door was empty, Fluffy being at the Potter Estate, and the boys dropped through the trap door onto some devil's snare. Weasley panicked, but Harry took care of it easily. The plant was a part of the first year Herbology curriculum, after all. 

In the next room, there were keys flying about and a broomstick against the wall. Harry was a talented flyer, despite his lack of interest in quidditch, and managed to catch the right one with only minor difficulty. 

Weasley directed them through the chess set in the next room, and was injured in the process. Harry checked that the redhead was alive and stable, and then kept going. 

Harry sped past the unconscious troll in the next room, gagging at the smell, and found himself in trapped between two walls of fire. The logic puzzle was easy enough for a Ravenclaw, but Harry still drank the potion to go forward with no small amount of anxiety. Some of these were  _ poison _ , after all, and he was about to walk through  _ fire _ . What if he'd made a mistake? The potion slid through Harry's veins like ice, and he walked through the fire into the last chamber.

 

Waiting on the other side wasn't Snape, as the voice in Harry's mind had led him to believe, but Quirrell. The compulsion charm finally left Harry in peace, and he groaned. “Now what?” 

Quirrell whipped around to face Harry, eyes fierce. The nervous, stuttering man from the Defense classroom was gone and in his place was someone crazed and angry. Harry swallowed nervously. In a hard voice, Quirrell asked “Who did you expect to find?”

“Not sure, really,” Harry shrugged. “I didn't want to come.”

Quirrell gave Harry an odd look, then bound him in ropes and turned back to face the mirror in the center of the chamber. Harry recognized it - the Mirror of Erised. “The mirror is the key to finding the stone,” Quirrell murmured, tapping the frame with his wand. “Trust Dumbledore to come up with something like this, but he's in London and I'll be far away by the time he gets back.”

Harry squirmed in the ropes, doing his best to loosen them. He wasn't sure what was happening here, but Quirrell was almost certainly working with Voldemort and being bound like this didn't bode well for Harry's survival. A headache built at Harry's scar, but he ignored it.

“I see the stone. I'm presenting it to my master, but where is it?” 

After puzzling over the problem awhile longer, Quirrell pleaded to his master for help. Just then, a second voice spoke. It was high and cold, and sent chills down Harry's spine worse than the potion that had allowed him to walk into this room. “Use the boy,” it said.

Quirrell pulled Harry in front of the mirror, where he saw the same scene he’d seen before. “Mum… Dad…”

“Let me speak to him, face to face.”

“Master, you are not strong enough!”

“I have strength enough for this.”

Quirrell unwrapped his turban, and turned around. On the back of his head was an absolutely grotesque face, pasty white with slits for a nose and blood red eyes. “Do you see what I've become? But once I have the stone, I will rise again in a body of my own, no longer reliant on hosts or on unicorn’s blood to maintain myself. Now, what do you see in the mirror?”

“M-my family.”

Voldemort - for this monstrosity could only be Voldemort - sneered at Harry. “Then you have no use to me. Kill him.”

Harry would never be able to say why Quirrell tried to strangle him instead of casting a curse, but as soon as his hands touched Harry's throat they began to burn. Harry's scar was searing in pain, potentially the most pain he'd ever felt, and his skin burned where Quirrell touched him. With further prodding from his Master, Quirrell drew his wand. Reacting without thinking, Harry lurched forward in his bindings and crashed into Quirell, knocking the man over and falling on top of him. Both screamed, but Quirrell burned rapidly and succumbed to his wounds. Harry saw a black mist rise up from the body before he blacked out. 

 

Harry woke three days later in the infirmary, disoriented and confused. He mumbled his way through a conversation with the headmaster, barely able to keep his eyes open in the blinding light of the room. He asked about Professor Quirrell (dead, Harry killed him), the stone (safe, never retrieved from the mirror, you had to want to get it and Harry  _ didn't _ ), the strange impulse (Harry doesn't say 'compulsion charm', Dumbledore brushes him off), and about Voldemort (Dumbledore says ‘when you're older’, Harry decides to find out what Hollia knows). 

 

Rumors flew around the school about what happened through that trapdoor in the third floor corridor. Ron and Harry are treated as heroes, never mind that Ron really only contributed to the chess game, or that Harry didn't want to go, or that Quirrell probably wasn't going to manage to break the enchantment on the mirror and get the stone in the first place. 

Harry stewed with guilt at killing a man. Hermione, Anthony, and Isobel picked up on it immediately, and consoled or distracted him in turns. They discussed magical creatures and potions with him (Snape’s antagonism only made Harry want to succeed even more to spite the man), and let him rant about what he'd done, and promised him that it was self-defense and, while it was a heavy thing, it was necessary and admissible. Gradually, Harry began to believe them. 

The train ride to King’s Cross was bittersweet. Harry was looking forward to summer at the Estate - he would be able to learn more about his family history and his beastmaster talent, fly in the garden, and relax. He also knew he wouldn't have to worry about compulsion charms, and the horcrux in his scar would be removed soon. As his friends made plans to visit over the summer, however, Harry knew he wouldn't be able to join them. He would have to stay at the Estate as much as possible, lest someone find out where he was actually staying, and he wouldn't be able to have guests there until he was an adult or had a  _ legal _ guardian there with him. He was, in all technicalities, running away from home.

 

At the station, Harry waved goodbye to his friends and made sure Ares was secure on his shoulder, then activated his portkey. He didn't bother to cross over to the muggle side of the platform where Vernon Dursley waited for him, purple-faced with rage.


	9. Summer 1992 - Horcrux

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! This story is updating! I've just graduated from college (and I'm American, so that's the same as university here) and hopefully that means updates more regularly. 
> 
> Today I'm going through my WIPs starting from the longest wait on an update - this is the second. The only exceptions to this are "Four Sortings" and "Everywhere to Me/In the Cold, Cold Night", which are both actually on hiatus while I try to finish something else. I did just start a new story the other day, though, so we'll see how the finishing things goes. 
> 
> That new story is called "Something Magical, Deeply Loved", if anyone is interested, and it is a story where Hermione discovers upon entering the magical world that she is actually a pure-blood, kidnapped during the first war. It'll be wizarding culture heavy, as will this one, but the cultures established will be somewhat different between the two universes.
> 
> Hope you enjoy the update!

As soon as they touched down in the garden, Harry managing to keep his feet this time, Ares leapt from his shoulder and transformed into his true shape midair. Harry chuckled at the Nundu’s eagerness, and ran his hands through the coarse fur as they walked up the path to the manor.

The Potter Estate felt familiar and comforting in a way that went beyond the six weeks Harry had spent here during the summer and winter holidays, and the feeling seemed to grow each time he arrived. Hollia explained to him when he mentioned it that it was his family magic reacting to the ancestral home of the Potters. Generations upon generations of Potters had lived here, many had even been born or died within the Estate, and each of them lent their magic to the preserve and the wards and the elves. Any child of a long line of witches and wizards like the Potters would feel the same sense of belonging at their own ancestral home, but Harry was likely more aware of it having spent ten years separated from it all. 

 

The goblins had asked for Harry to come to them to have the horcrux in his scar removed one week after the end of term. Hollia wanted to wait to begin tutoring him on his family magic until there was no chance of foreign influences in his core, so he spent most of the first week relaxing. It was not uncommon to find him curled up by a fire with Ares, leaning against his familiar’s side and reading a book or journaling. More often than not, Azalea joined them. 

Harry also spent a lot of time talking with Hollia - telling her stories of his time at school that he hadn't yet shared, discussing the subjects he was studying, and planning out a tutoring schedule to follow after the horcrux was removed that would still allow him time to enjoy the summer. 

Together, Harry and Hollia decided that he would spend two hours each weekday morning studying history and culture, and then an hour each in the afternoons on Potions and his Family Magic. Hollia worried that the schedule was too intensive for summer, but Harry assured her that he really did enjoy studying, and there would still be plenty of time for him to relax.

 

During that week Tatty brought Harry back to Godric's Hollow to visit Bathilda, and he brought Ares along to meet her. Upon their arrival, Ares shifted into his nundu form in her living room.

Harry looked between his familiar and Bathilda with wide eyes, shocked speechless. How on  _ earth  _ was he going to explain this? It was only after several moments that Harry noticed Bathilda didn’t look surprised or scared or any other emotion that one would _ expect _ to see when there was suddenly a nundu in the sitting room. Bathilda only looked at Ares’ true form with warm amusement. 

“Do- do you  _ know? _ ” Harry asked her, trying to reference the Secret without saying anything. It certainly seemed like Bathilda knew, but maybe she was just very accepting or very old and senile.

Bathilda chuckled. “Of course, my dear, of course. Your father told everyone who might be the one to raise you if your parents didn’t make it, so that wherever you ended up living you’d be able to grow up knowing about your family.”

“My parents wanted you to raise me?” Harry asked, slightly awed.

“Well, I daresay I was a ways down the list. Your parents’ will listed nearly everyone they trusted as a potential guardian for you.”

Their conversation moved on from there, but part of Harry’s mind continued to wonder how he’d ended up with the Dursleys when his parents had so clearly made plans to the contrary. Even with Harry’s distraction, the visit was pleasant. Ares, especially, enjoyed the attention Bathilda gave him in his true form. 

Before Harry left, Bathilda gave him a trunk of his parents’ things that she’d been able to salvage from the ruined cottage before ministry workers and civilians looking for souvenirs had arrived. “I pulled this out of storage after your last visit. It’s only a few things,” she told him, “but they’re the most precious ones. Their wands, photos, things like that.”

Harry thanked Bathilda tearfully, though he tried to wipe them away before she could see, and activated his portkey back to the Estate before he fully began to cry.

 

At dinner that night, Hollia gave Harry several letters that had arrived by owl while he was away. The first was from Gringotts, reminding him of his appointment the following day. He set it aside, grateful for the level of consideration the goblins gave him as a Potter, even though it wasn’t necessary in this case. The other two were very different, though equally concerning. One came from Headmaster Dumbledore.

_ Mr. Potter, _

_ I have been informed by your uncle that there was no sign of you when he arrived to retrieve you from Platform 9 ¾. Further discussion revealed that your family had not seen or heard from you since your trip to Diagon Alley on your birthday. I find this especially troubling following our conversation in the fall when you said to me, Mr. Potter, that you were returning home for the holidays. _

_ It is imperative, Mr. Potter, that you return to your home at Privet Drive immediately. I hesitate to include the details in writing, but there are wards and spells in place powered by your mother’s sacrifice. In order to maintain these, you must continue to live at Privet Drive and call it your home. Failing this, the protection she left you may be lost forever.  _

_ I am sure you meant no ill, but you must remember that you are a child and uninformed about our world. As your magical guardian, it is my responsibility to ensure you are safe. To that end, please return to Privet Drive immediately. If you are in need of transportation there, you may write to me at the school with your current location and I will come to take you home. _

_ Finally, I must say I am disappointed in you, Mr. Potter. Your family has done a great deal for you and leaving their home without any notice of where you have gone is very poor repayment for their favors.  _

_ I await your owl, _

_ Albus W. P. B. Dumbledore _

_ Headmaster, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry _

_ Chief Warlock, Wizengamot _

_ Supreme Mugwump, International Confederation of Wizards _

Harry looked up fearfully at Hollia. “Do I have to go back? To Privet Drive?”

“May I see the letter?” Hollia asked with a frown. Harry handed her the letter, and she quickly read it. “No,” she answered firmly when she finished. There was a harder tone to her voice than Harry had ever heard from Hollia. “You don’t have to go back, and the reasons given here that you should are baseless and inaccurate.”

“What do you mean?”

“It seems like the Headmaster is intentionally using the fact that you are relatively uninformed about magic against you. What he says here about the protection from your mother fading - that simply isn’t how magical sacrifices work.” 

Hollia was visibly angry, but when she saw the confusion on Harry’s face she calmed herself. “Your mother willingly sacrificed her life to save yours,” she told him patiently. “A sacrifice becomes more powerful the more is given up, and in this case the sacrifice was immense. Lily was only twenty-one. Given the lifespan of witches and wizards, she sacrificed well over a century of life. With that time she sacrificed every magical advancement she may have made, which could have been  _ many _ as she was a brilliant witch, and every relationship she had - the most important one being the time she would have spent with you, her son. A sacrifice of that power - of an entire life - won’t simply fade because of where you live. There is centuries worth of magic in something like that.” Hollia hesitated before continuing, “Given the kind of life that waits for you at that house, returning there would only drain the power of your mother’s sacrifice  _ faster  _ as the protection afforded to you worked to keep you safe in that house. And a wizard like the Headmaster - old, powerful, and knowledgeable - would know that.”

Harry looked at her with wide eyes. “So what do we do? Just ignore it?”

“Take the letter along to Gringotts tomorrow, and see if there is any aid the goblins can give. The Headmaster is legally your magical guardian -  _ technically  _ he can require you to live wherever he chooses and can use the government and law enforcement to ensure it. The goblins may be able to give you some protection from that, as they tend not to abide by the human Ministry unless forced. Even if the goblins can’t protect you, however, the Estate’s wards will not let anyone in without the permission of the wardmaster. That is  _ me _ , and I will not allow anyone in who wants to take you back to Privet Drive. You may need to stay within the wards for the rest of the summer, but you have my word, Harry, that you are safe here. And if anything happens in Diagon Alley or at school, you have your portkey.”

Harry nodded, comforted, and turned to the last letter, from Hermione.

_ Harry, _

_ How are you? I’m well, and I hope you are too. Has your summer tutoring begun yet? I’m still jealous that you’ll be able to study magic outside of Hogwarts. What have you been doing since we left school? Have you worked on the summer assignments at all? _

_ I haven’t been doing much. My parents have planned a trip to France later this summer, but until then I spend most of the day on my own while they are at their dentistry practice. I’ve spent most of that time reading through my school books to prepare for the summer assignments, but I haven’t put a quill to parchment yet.  _

_ I have something awful to tell you, Harry. I’m putting it off, even though I’ve already written out a similar letter to Isobel. I’ll probably put off writing it just as much when I write my next letter to Anthony.  _

_ I may not be able to return to Hogwarts. Harry, it’s terrible. I told my parents about the issues with Quirrell and the stone, and the troll on Halloween - I didn’t think to hide it from them given that I wasn’t actually involved in the incidents, but they feel Hogwarts is unsafe. They want me to give up magic altogether! I simply can’t, Harry, you understand. Being raised without magic, then getting a taste of it before it’s taken away- it’s horrid! I don’t know what I’ll do, they seem very serious about withdrawing me.  _

_ I’m sorry to give you such horrid news so soon after the start of holidays. I really do hope you’re doing well and want to hear about how things are.  _

_ And, Harry, we’ll stay friends, won’t we? If I don’t go back? I never had any friends in primary. Isobel is a pure-blood, so I worry that we won’t be able to relate to each other for long with only a year of shared experiences, and I don’t want to go back to being lonely. You, at least, know the muggle world better. _

_ I’ll sign off here, I suppose. I think I’m rambling again and already trying to put off telling Anthony.  _

_ My very best, Harry, and I hope to see you soon. _

_ Hermione _

“These aren’t good letters,” Harry mumbled as he handed the parchment to Hollia. “Can we help her? Hermione is a brilliant friend, and she’s the best in our year, it would be a  _ crime _ if she couldn’t study magic anymore.”

Hollia shook her head sadly. “There are things others could do, but nothing for us. We are already at risk from the Ministry by keeping you here against the headmaster’s wishes. If we harbored Hermione as well - we couldn’t enroll her in Hogwarts, and it would be just one more reason for the Ministry law enforcement to target your family.”

Harry nodded sadly. It made sense. He hated that it did, though. Hollia didn’t offer him empty comforts, which Harry was grateful for. Saying that things would work out wouldn’t make them work out, and until something happened to fix this Harry didn’t want to hear it.

 

Harry woke up the following day unspeakably nervous. There was no reason for it, truthfully. He trusted the goblins, and they’d spent time and probably resources creating this ritual just for his situation. Everything would work out fine, he knew, but his hands still shook. Harry wondered if this was what people felt like when they were going to have an operation at the hospital.

He barely touched his breakfast. An elf named Mopsy came to see him, nervously twisting at her toga, and he hastily assured her that there was no problem at all with the breakfast and that he simply had a nervous stomach. Mopsy nodded, looking comforted, and moments after she popped away his heavy full English was replaced by a plate of toast with jam. Harry smiled and whispered his thanks.

Tatty brought Harry directly to the Gringott’s lobby, something few wizards could get away with, but which they knew they needed to do if Harry wasn’t going to be taking a detour by way of Privet Drive. A goblin named Boglor greeted him and ushered him immediately into Ragnok’s office. 

Harry was waiting only a few minutes before Ragnok, Gornuk, and Sharptooth entered the room together. They made an intimidating picture, especially given that they were a banker, a healer, and a researcher. Harry had done some study on goblins, however, and knew that every adult in the Goblin Nation would also be a capable warrior.

The three goblins greeted Harry perfunctorily, and led him directly to the ritual room Harry had visited each time he’d come to the bank. 

“I’m afraid this will hurt, Mr. Potter,” Gornuk said to him once they reached the chamber. It was the closest Harry had heard a goblin get to sympathetic, and it didn’t make him less nervous. Especially as he didn’t recall being warned about the pain, which had been significant, before his cleansing on his birthday. “For this reason, I’d like for you to be restrained during the ritual. The pain may cause you to writhe or convulse, and excess motion could interfere with the casting.

Harry nodded, pale-faced. He would agree to anything that would help him get Voldemort out of his head and survive it intact. “Could you- explain what you’ll be doing? It’s not that I don’t trust you, I’m just- scared.”

Gornuk nodded once. The ritual, as explained to Harry, sounded horrific and yet he was calmed slightly by the knowledge of what he would experience. Once Gornuk finished explaining, Harry laid down in the crystal circle. Leather restraints magically wrapped around his limbs and torso, and the changing began.

 

Ragnok, Gornuk, and Sharptooth worked together in tandem. First, the green light with its black spot was extracted as it had been over the summer. Gornuk had explained that this was Harry’s magical core projected outside of his body so that the goblins could interact with it, with a direct connection to his magical soul. The green was reflective of himself, and the black spot was the horcrux. Once his core was exposed, Ragnok exerted his own magic to restrain it.

The restraint was so that the goblins weren’t injured by the backlash of removing the horcrux from Harry’s magical soul. Even though the horcrux was foreign, it was partially attached to Harry’s magic and there would be some injury to his core as it was removed which his magic would instinctively respond to if it weren’t restrained. Having his magic restrained in this way reminded Harry of wearing very tight clothing, distinctly uncomfortable but not yet painful.

The pain began when Sharptooth started the process of separating the horcrux. Tearing of the magical core, it turned out, was excruciating. Every muscle in Harry’s body tightened as he screamed, and distantly he was grateful he was restrained. There was no way he could have remained still through this.

The separation took only minutes with Sharptooth carefully tearing away the horcrux while Gornuk healed his core in her wake. Harry was glad that the horcrux wasn’t  _ actually  _ at the center of his core as it appeared in the light. If Sharptooth had had to cut through it before even reaching the horcrux - it didn’t bear thinking about.

When the horcrux was completely separated from Harry’s magical core, Sharptooth transferred it into a new vessel, an old tunic, while Gornuk finished the healing of Harry’s core. Sharptooth then took the tunic-horcrux away to study before its destruction. Once Gornuk had finished healing the torn edges of Harry’s core, Ragnok carefully released the suppression.

The light faded back into Harry, and Gornuk then began the cleansing ritual that Harry had undergone on his birthday, intent on removing every trace of taint from Harry’s magic. Harry recalled how the burning had spread through his body, gradually becoming worse as time passed. In comparison to what he’d just experienced, the burning was practically welcome.

When it all ended, and Gornuk came forward to remove the restraints, Harry could barely move from where he laid. His body was achy and weak from exertion, and the lingering pain clouded his mind. Gornuk handed him two potion vials, labeled as Pepper Up and a pain potion, and Harry gratefully drank them before hoisting himself from the floor.

“The ritual was a complete success, Mr. Potter,” Gornuk told him. “You are free of outside influences on your magic. You must rest today, but may resume regular activities tomorrow. You should find you have more control over your magic and your mind with the absence of the horcrux.”

“Thank you, Gornuk. And if you could tell Sharptooth, too? I really appreciate what the Goblin Nation has done for me,” Harry told Gornuk sincerely. He knew there were specific ways to express thanks in the Goblin Nation from his reading, but he was too wrung out to remember the specifics. 

Gornuk nodded once. Harry took it as a gracious response.

“Do you have other business with Gringott’s today, Mr. Potter?” Ragnok asked.

Harry began to shake his head before remembering the letter in his pocket. “Yes, actually, if you’ve got time to meet with me, sir.”

 

Ragnok brought Harry back to his office, where Harry immediately explained the situation with the Headmaster and the Dursleys, showing him the letter as evidence.

Ragnok listened carefully, and gave serious consideration to the predicament facing the last of the Potters. “Your parents’ will was sealed after their death for unknown reasons. Gringott’s carries a copy, but the human Ministry will not acknowledge it unless the will were to be unsealed. As such, there is nothing the Goblin Nation can do to change your legal guardianship at this time. However, Gringott’s is able to provide legal consultation. To that end, we can gather evidence against Albus Dumbledore in order to have his guardianship of you revoked when the time is right. Additionally, the Goblin Nation will defend you against Albus Dumbledore while you are on our soil.”

“Thank you, Ragnok.” Ragnok made a copy of the letter and certified it before placing it into a filing drawer in his desk. When he handed Harry the original, the boy remembered something. “Oh, no,” he moaned quietly. “The compulsion, I’d completely forgotten.”

This, of course, led to Harry having to give a detailed explanation of the nights at Hogwarts when he had been targed by what Hollia suspected was a compulsion charm, and his hope that the goblins would be able to determine who had cast it based on the spell residue. “I remembered you mentioning it, on my birthday,” he said, “and was hoping that the couple of weeks it had been wasn’t too long. But now that I’ve been  _ cleansed _ -”

“The traces will be gone, yes. It is a shame you did not remember earlier.”

Harry nodded miserably. In times like this, it would have been nice to have an adult in his life who could actually accompany him off the estate. Hollia was brilliant, but there were things she’d never be able to do. 

Ragnok provided Harry with an amulet he could wear that would protect him against further compulsion charms - the chance to find out who had done it wasn’t worth endangering Harry again - and Harry activated his portkey home, looking forward to his bed.


	10. Summer 1992 - Lessons

Harry woke up the morning after his appointment at the bank to see a very concerned looking Tatty wringing her hands in his bedroom. 

“Master Harry did not eat lunch or dinner. The elves is all very concerned for Master Harry’s health. Tatty is concerned for Master Harry, too.”

Harry groaned a bit. “I was so exhausted after my appointment yesterday that I fell straight to sleep, Tatty. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you or any of the other elves that I’d be missing meals.” His stomach grumbled, and Tatty seemed to perk up at the sound. “I’ll be down for breakfast as soon as I’m dressed, promise.”

“Yes, Master Harry,” Tatty said happily as she popped away. 

 

“Feeling better?” Hollia asked as Harry took his seat. 

She had her usual plate of fruit - Dryads were herbivorous - and in moments Harry had a large plate of bacon, toast, and porridge with blueberries. He chuckled a bit at the elves’ enthusiasm for feeding him. “Yeah, loads.”

“I’m glad to hear that, Harry,” Hollia said warmly. “So long as you feel well enough, your tutoring will be starting today. I’ll be teaching you wizarding culture and your family magic, and at your request I’ve gotten you a Potions tutor.” She smiled conspiratorially. “I think you’ll get on well with him.”

“Who is it?” Harry asked after swallowing.

“Newt Scamander.”

Harry spluttered a bit. “Scamander, as in  _ Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them _ , the most comprehensive modern book on magical creatures in existence? _That_ Newt Scamander?” Hollia nodded, a mischievously innocent look on her face. “ _ How? _ ”

“The Scamanders are a vassal family of the Potters. That means that several generations ago, a daughter of the Potter family married the head of the Scamander family. Because the Potter family is older and wealthier, the Scamanders agreed with the marriage to work alongside the Potters and defer to your family in disagreements. In return, the Potters have helped to provide for the Scamanders.”

“How?”

“Well,” Hollia said dryly, “In his youth, Newt used to get in legal trouble fairly often. Dueling poachers, transporting creatures without proper protocols, and other such things. It was Potter money that made sure he avoided going to Azkaban whenever he strayed a little too far into vigilante territory for the taste of the governments of the countries he visited.” 

Harry grinned at that. His new Potions tutor was  _ cool.  _

“Newt will be here after lunch, and I’ll be tutoring you this morning. The current plan is to follow that schedule on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, leaving Tuesdays and Thursdays for your summer homework and weekends for relaxation. If this schedule needs adjusting, we can do that at any time.”

“Okay,” Harry agreed easily. 

Other kids his age might have complained about having so many summer lessons, but Harry  _ was _ a Ravenclaw. Not to mention that he’d be studying his family magic, and spending time with  _ Newt Scamander _ . If anything, Harry was disappointed that his lessons were only three days a week. Maybe once he finished his summer assignments, that could change.

“Before we start tutoring this morning, you’ve gotten another letter from Albus Dumbledore, and I believe you still need to answer the letter from your friend Hermione.”

Harry nodded, and took the envelope Hollia held out. He skimmed the letter to see it was much the same as the last, in a harsher tone. He sighed a bit too wearily for a boy of not-quite-twelve. “If there are any more letters from the school, I don’t need to see them unless they’re the booklist or something like that. Dumbledore is just going to keep telling me to go back to my aunt and uncle’s house.”

Hollia nodded her agreement, and gave him Hermione’s letter, some parchment, and a self-inking quill.

_ Hermione, _

_ I’m sorry to take so long to reply. I had an appointment yesterday for a medical issue. I’m fine now! Magical healing is fantastic, isn’t it? But I spent the rest of the day yesterday resting, because it was rather exhausting.  _

_ Of course we’ll stay friends, Hermione, no matter what. You’re brilliant, and I won’t just let you fade into the background. The idea of you not coming back to Hogwarts is scary, though. I really hope there’s something that can be done so you can. _

_ My summer tutoring is starting today. My tutor wanted to wait until after yesterday’s appointment to start, because the issue was something that could have been affecting my magic. (Once again, I’m fine now. I don’t need you worrying yourself, Hermione!) I’m studying wizarding culture and my family’s role in it, and Potions. I’ll never pass if I only study under Snape. I know you don’t like people talking badly about professors, Hermione, but he’s terrible and I want to learn something about Potions. _

_ Since school let out, since I didn’t have any lessons yet, I’ve been mostly relaxing with Ares and with Azalea, my mum’s familiar. I’ve read several books, of course. There’s one,  _ Merpeople: A Comprehensive Guide to Their Language and Customs,  _ that I think you’d love. I’ll lend it to you this fall. If you don’t end up coming back, I’ll just have to buy you a copy. Even if your parents don’t send you to school, they can’t hardly stop you from getting gifts. _

_ I haven’t started my summer assignments just yet, either. Now that my tutoring is starting, I’m supposed to spend Tuesdays and Thursdays doing that. It’s not that I don’t want to learn, doing my summer work, it’s just that I’d rather learn what I want instead of eighteen inches on the Goblin Rebellions.  _

_ Write back soon, Hermione.  _

_ Harry _

As soon as Harry had sealed the parchment, and elf popped in to take it for mailing. The dishes had already been cleared while he was writing, so Harry quickly thanked the elves before following Hollia to the library.

 

“In addition to your family magic, I’ll be teaching you both social customs and political structures in the wizarding world. Today we’re starting with politics.”

Harry nodded, and took out some parchment for note taking. Even this would be better than Binns’ assignments.

“The Ministry of Magic operates to provide public services and maintain order, but they are not the main lawmakers. That would be the Wizengamot. The Wizengamot meets once a month to propose, debate, and vote on changes to the wizarding world’s laws. They also meet for special sessions when a criminal trial must take place. There are one hundred and fifty seats on the Wizengamot. Thirty are for Ministry department heads and other high ranking employees, twenty for holders of an Order of Merlin - the highest honor a civilian in the Wizarding World can earn, twenty-five seats are held by citizens voted onto the Wizengamot, and the remaining seventy-five belong to families like yours. Any questions so far?”

Harry finished jotting down the seat breakdown, and shook his head. It was simple enough.

“Excellent. Now, there are 150 seats, but they haven’t all been full since before I became the Potter family estate manager. Currently, there are only twelve living holders of the Order of Merlin, so that leaves eight seats open, and a multitude of family seats are sitting empty. Family seats might go unclaimed in a situation like yours - your parents’ will would have designated someone to use the Potter seat until you were old enough, but it is sealed and so the seat stays vacant - or when a family goes dormant. A dormant family is one which has no acknowledged family members able to take the seat - all living members of the family are Squibs, imprisoned, mentally or physically unsound, or disowned.”

Hollia paused as Harry indicated he had a question. “What’s a Squib?”

“A Squib is someone born to magical parents who cannot use magic. They have some magic within them, can do things that Muggles cannot such as see past certain wards, but they’ll never cast a spell. Currently, Squibs do not have the right to hold seats on the Wizengamot or inherit a family fortune.”

Harry crinkled his nose. “That’s awful.”

Hollia nodded. “Groups have been established many times to fight for Squib rights, but none have been very successful yet. Another will form, and we can help them when they do if you’re old enough to take your seat. Now- dormant families. It’s traditional for children of old families to take an inheritance test on their thirteenth birthday to determine if they qualify for any of the family seats in the Wizengamot that have gone dormant. This is because all of the old families have married into each other at various points in their histories. Magical inheritance is a strange thing. Magic carries a degree of sentience, especially old family magic, which has been passed on for hundreds or thousands of years, and the magic chooses when a child will inherit a family legacy. You’ll take this inheritance test next year - it’s done by the goblins.”

“Is it likely that I’ll inherit any of those family seats?”

“Truthfully, it is more likely for you than for any other child of your generation.” Harry furrowed his brow a bit. “In Arithmancy, which I know you haven’t studied, seven is the most magically powerful number. You were born on the dying day of the seventh month, which is a very auspicious date. Also, you managed a feat of magic previously believed impossible at fifteen months old, and family legacies tend to prefer people who stand out magically. But we can discuss that more next summer, when you take the test.”

Hollia continued telling him about the structure of the wizarding world’s government. The most salient point he learned that day was that new Lords typically took their seats between seventeen and twenty-one, but that as the last of his line he’d be eligible at fifteen if he felt ready. That only gave him three years, really, since he wanted to be able to make changes for people like Squibs as soon as possible.

 

Potions tutoring with Newt Scamander was  _ fantastic _ even if, and possibly because, they spent half the time discussing creatures Newt had seen on his travels instead of brewing. 

Newt insisted Harry call him by his first name, saying that at ninety-five he didn’t need any more help feeling like an old man. Newt didn’t  _ act  _ like an old man - he moved with energy and showed no signs of senility as he told his stories and instructed Harry’s brewing.

Newt was skilled with Potions, but also informed Harry right at the start that if he were going to continue studying the art with a tutor past his OWLs he’d need to hire someone with a Mastery in the subject. For the time being, however, hiring a vassal of the Potter family was useful because of Harry’s runaway status. Newt would never report him to the Ministry or Headmaster to be sent back to Privet Drive like a hired Potions Master might. 

 

That night, at dinner, Hollia gave Harry two more letters - one each from Isobel and Anthony.

_ Harry, _

_ My parents are handling the situation with Hermione’s parents, so you don’t need to worry or plot. I’ll tell you more when I can, or maybe Hermione will, but we’re  _ not  _ letting her parents pull her out of school. _

_ Isobel _

Harry chuckled a bit, but put the letter aside with relief. Hollia saying that there was nothing they could do for Hermione hadn’t sat well with him, so he was glad that Isobel’s family was in a position to help.

_ Har, _

_ Did Izzie tell you anything about what her family is doing for Mione? All she said to me was to ‘stop your frantic planning.’ Now I’m dying to know!  _

_ Hope your summer is going well. Tell me about your lessons, if you can. _

_ Tony _

Harry laughed again, and scribbled a quick reply on the back of Anthony’s letter. Harry was curious, too, but he thought that Anthony was worse. The other boy hadn’t even taken the time to write out people’s names! He had never called any of them by shortened names before.

“Sorry,” Harry said suddenly to Newt, who had stayed for dinner. “Hollia always gives me my post at meals, but it was probably rude to answer it while we have a guest.”

“He disappears into the library at every chance he gets,” Hollia explained, “and it is often impossible for me to find him. This is the most expedient solution. I could, I suppose, direct the house elves to take his post directly to him, but it has been the routine for many years now that I distribute everyone’s letters appropriately and it might disturb poor Korky if I changed it.”

“It’s no issue, Harry, Hollia,” Newt replied genuinely “People tend to get so caught up in all I’ve done, it’s refreshing for someone to treat me normally and be a bit rude.” Harry blushed as the old man laughed. 

“You’re always welcome here for dinner, Newt, if you want to discuss creatures with Harry or be ignored at the dinner table.”

To Harry’s mild surprise, Newt actually looked interested. “Are you sure? I’d hate to be a bother.”

“It’s no bother at all,” Hollia assured him. “You know how much the elves love to have people to feed, and Harry certainly won’t mind. You should have seen the way his eyes widened when I told him who would be teaching him this summer.”

Harry blushed a brighter red at that, ducking his face down and mumbling something about “groundbreaking research” under his breath.

“Well, I suppose I might take you up on that. Perhaps my grandson, Rolf, could come along. He’s about a year older than Harry, and doesn’t go to Hogwarts. It could do them both some good.”

 

Wednesday morning, Harry’s lessons focused on etiquette for greeting others in formal situations. ‘Formal situations’ included meetings and communication  with his family’s allies, so it was an important lesson for him to learn quickly. The list of rules felt long, but Harry dutifully took notes and asked his questions. He wouldn’t destroy his family’s alliances out of ignorance.

 

  * __In-person meetings, must be introduced by a mutual acquaintance__


  * _Offer to make introductions when qualified - if it’s unneeded they’ll say so_


  * _Use titles (Lord, Lady, Heir, Heiress, Miss, Master) until invited otherwise_


  * _When invited to use a person’s first name, it’s polite to return the invitation_


  * _Being the first to offer the invitation can allow the other power in the relationship - do sparingly_


  * _Letters of introduction are used when there is no opportunity for an in-person introduction - write soon!_


  * _Letters should always be written formally - name with titles, date, formal structure and language_


  * _Be_ _very_ _polite - sincere compliments, especially to Ladies and Heiresses, balanced conversation, no bragging but no false modesty_


  * _Be familiar with a family before meeting - names and titles, recent history, employment and magical gifts_


  * _Negotiate only in proper settings - meetings between Lords meant for negotiations, not meetings meant for other purposes or parties - negotiations include discussion of money, services, contracts, marriages_



 

“Why are marriages something to negotiate?” Harry asked Hollia.

“Among those with titles, marriage is often a matter of solidifying deals and alliances,” Hollia answered him matter-of-factly. “There are exceptions, of course. Your parents married solely for love. Even in a love match, though, there is usually a contract. You have assets and a title - you may have more than one title, once you’ve taken your inheritance test next summer - and any woman you marry may have assets or title of her own. Marriage contracts specify exactly how those assets and titles will be blended or kept separate, and how they will be inherited.”

“That makes sense, I suppose,” Harry responded. It was a bit overwhelming, but he’d never thought he’d have to worry about things like this while he was living in the Dursley’s cupboard under the stairs.

“Additionally-” Hollia hesitated, “It is possible you may need to negotiate multiple marriages, and how your spouses interact.”

Harry choked. “Multiple-  _ why? _ ”

“If you inherit additional titles, each will need its own Lady in order to fulfill the magical requirements. Family magic does not like to be shared or consolidated, and so two children of yours with the same mother could not inherit two separate titles - they would be magically identical. Family magic also does not like to be allowed to die out, so if you were to continue only one or some of your titles’ lines you risk facing magical consequences.”

Harry dropped his head to the desk. “And people are okay with that- with someone having multiple husbands or wives?”

“Yes,” Hollia told him simply. “It is common enough that it is well accepted, especially since the practice is magically enforced. Any wizarding family will be aware of this. Most will see the honor of their child being the Lord or Lady chosen by someone gifted with multiple titles as far more significant than any awkwardness or inconvenience involved in the practice.”

Harry paused, and looked up at Hollia. “Do I  _ have  _ to take the inheritance test? If I don’t, could I just be Lord Potter and not have to worry about that?”

Hollia shook her head. “The family magics could choose you whether you take the test or not. The test is for your own information and safety - so that you know what Magic expects of you and can act accordingly.”

Harry’s head hit the desk again. This was exhausting.


	11. Summer 1992 - Family Magic

“By accepting your familiar bond with Ares last year and taking on your family’s magic, you’ve gained access to a number of passive and active magical skills which only a Potter can hope to develop,” Hollia told Harry during his first lesson on family magic. “The passive magics have already been working in your favor. Can you think of a time?”

Harry thought for a moment. “Fluffy. He was meant to guard the stone, so he would have attacked me when I approached him if my family magic wasn’t protecting me.”

“Good,” Hollia said with a pleased smile. “The other passive portion of your family magic is the ability to form the unique familiar bonds of the Potter family. Today, we’ll begin learning the first active skill that comes from your family magic, which is Beastspeaking. From the name, what do you think Beastspeaking is?”

“Talking to animals?” Harry asked uncertainly. Surely it wasn’t that simple. 

Hollia nodded. “Specifically, magical creatures. You won’t be able to speak with mundane animals like cats or dogs, though you will be able to speak with ones that are part kneazle or crup. Conjured animals also have the spark of magic you’ll need to interact with in order to speak to them, though they tend to be less intelligent than natural-born magical creatures.”

Okay, so it could sort of be that simple. “How does it work, then?”

“Your family magic will naturally allow you to connect with the magical spark inside a creature, through pure force of will. Once you do that, you can communicate with them. Your speech will sound, to others, as the natural sounds of the creature you are communicating with.”

“Alright, that sounds simple enough.”

“The theory behind it is simple, yes. It will take practice to do it reliably, though. At first, it will take a lot of effort. Through practice, you’ll be able to connect more easily to a creature’s magical spark, achieving this faster and eventually being able to connect with more than one creature at a time.”

“So how do I start?” Harry asked eagerly.

“I have one more warning before you begin, Harry," Hollia cautioned him. "Because of the Fidelius protecting your family’s secret, anyone who witnesses your Beastspeaking and is not aware of the secret will be forced to rationalize what they’ve seen in another way. If you’re often seen making animal sounds to creatures, people may begin to doubt your sanity. Additionally, if you’re seen speaking to a serpentine creature people will no doubt assume that you are a Parselmouth, or a snake speaker, which many people fear and associate with Dark magic.”

Harry swallowed. “So be careful where and how often I do it.”

“Exactly,” Hollia said with a nod. “Now to begin you will need to focus on the feeling of your magic, and then by pure force of will connect it with a magical creature’s. To start, you’ll attempt to communicate with Ares. Your familiar bond with him will make it easier, as your magic is already in contact. Once you’re doing that relatively easily, we’ll spend time in the Sanctuary communicating with other creatures.”

Harry was stumped for some time, trying to feel his own magic. He could feel family magic around him, and powerful enchantments at Hogwarts, but feeling his  _ own  _ magic seemed something like tasting his own tongue. It was always there, so it felt like nothing.

It was after Hollia led him through several meditations on the topic that Harry remembered that his magic  _ hadn’t  _ always been there. Twice now, the goblin healers had projected his magical core outside of his body. He’d felt empty without it, clearly from the absence of his own magic, so if he were to think about the moment it  _ returned _ -

Force of will, also known as stubbornness, wasn’t something Harry had any shortage of. As soon as he’d managed to lock onto the part of his normal state that was his magic, he was able to propel it easily along the familiar bond he had with Ares.

“Master!” the nundu growled at him happily.

Harry blinked in surprise. He could understand Ares perfectly, even detect tone the way he could in human speech, but there was still an underlying  _ feline  _ sound to it that he couldn’t properly describe. 

“Hello, Ares,” Harry responded.

Hollia laughed lightly. “You made the connection, Harry, but you seem to have dropped it in surprise. That was English.”

“Oh,” he responded, slightly disappointed, before focusing on his magic again and reforming the connection.

“Hello, Ares,” Harry said again, this time focusing on maintaining his magical link. 

“Master, you are speaking,” Ares growled back, sounding almost smug. “I have a talented Master. I knew when I saw you, that you were worthy of me.”

Harry laughed, the joy of his accomplishment mingling with his amusement at Ares’ self-importance. 

The rest of the morning was spent practicing disconnecting and reconnecting with Ares until Harry could do it smoothly. Finding his own magic took the longest, but Hollia warned him that once he was communicating with an unbonded creature forming the connection would be more difficult.

 

At lunch, Hollia passed Harry a letter from Hermione. Immediately, he tore into it. 

_ Harry, _

_ Everything has been changing so fast, you won’t believe all that’s happened in less than a week! _

_ Isobel’s family has stepped in with my parents, with an offer to foster me. Fostering, I’ve learned, is an older tradition in the wizarding world that fell out of popularity around the time of the war, which essentially allows a pureblood family to take a muggleborn as one of their own children. It isn’t quite the same as an adoption. I’m still a Granger, though I have the right to use the MacDougal name and the weight that it carries in the wizarding world if I choose. I’m now considered a “first-generation pureblood”, and the MacDougal family is responsible for my education and care just as if I was one of their own children. They’ll be teaching me about wizarding customs and etiquette - likely a lot of the same things you’re learning! - and seeing to it that I have lessons in things that Ladies are expected to do like music and the arts. They’re also the ones in charge of my continuing education at Hogwarts now, so there’s no longer any worry that I’ll be withdrawn. It’s all a bit overwhelming, to be truthful, and I don’t know how to feel about every aspect of it, but I am excited that I’ll get to learn more about the wizarding world and return to Hogwarts. The rest of it, like the MacDougals arranging me a marriage when I’m older, I suppose I’ll adjust to. _

_ That will be a large adjustment. I was shocked to learn that arranged marriages are still common in the wizarding world, but Mrs. MacDougal explained the reasoning behind it to me and they’ve promised me that I’ll never be forced into a marriage I don’t want. It helps to think of it as if they’ll be looking out for my interests when I marry, making sure I'm not taken advantage of, instead of setting the whole thing up.  _

_ The MacDougals are negotiating with my parents what kind of relationship we’ll have in the future. As muggles, my parents don’t have any real rights in the wizarding world and the MacDougal family could legally take me away without a word. That’s a bit frightening! But they aren’t like that - they want me to be able to see my parents, still, and talk with them. I’m not sure how often I will. My parents never treated me badly, but it was always obvious growing up that they hadn’t wanted a child. When I was first being sent to Hogwarts, they were so relieved! I don’t properly understand why they wanted to withdraw me after that, but I suppose they do love me and feel obligated to make sure I’m safe. Even if they overreacted.  _

_ It’s all so complicated, Harry! My emotions are all tangled up. Isobel has been a great help while I’ve been adjusting to living at her family’s manor, and very understanding when I miss home.  _

_ I look forward to hearing about your lessons, especially now that we can compare notes.  _

_ My regards, _

_ Hermione _

Harry felt the air go out of his lungs in relief. Hermione was right that her situation had gotten complicated, but she’d be okay. Isobel was a good person, so her parents were probably good people too. Something would be worked out that would allow Hermione to still see her parents and keep attending Hogwarts at the same time. 

_ And  _ he hadn’t had to be the one to have to explain the wizarding world’s views on marriage to Hermione. With his friend’s enthusiasm for his lessons, it was a possibility that Harry had been dreading since Hollia had told him about it in the first place.

 

The rest of Harry’s summer passed in a haze of routine. 

That wasn’t to say that Harry wasn’t enjoying himself. His lessons were engaging and informative, especially his Potions and Potter Magic tutoring. By the end of summer, Harry could easily connect to and communicate with any of the magical creatures in the reserve, as well as conjured the birds and snakes that Hollia had taught him to produce from his wand.

Rolf Scamander came along with Newt about once a week, and stayed for dinner after tutoring. While the two boys weren’t each other’s new best friends, they both agreed it was nice to spend some time with someone their own age in the summer. Rolf, Harry learned, attended Ilvermorny in the United States but lived in Britain in the summers, and it kept him as separate from his friends as Harry’s runaway status did for him.

Harry also corresponded regularly with all of his school friends. Hermione, especially, as he was happy to see how well she was settling in at MacDougal Hall. When the year’s Hogwarts letters were sent out, Harry had to decline his friends’ invitations to go to Diagon Alley together. The Headmaster had been far too interested in Harry’s whereabouts that summer for him to risk a trip out of the estate grounds for anything less important than removing a Horcrux from his soul. Ritty, one of the estate’s elves, did Harry’s shopping for him. His robes had come equipped with a growth charm that meant he wouldn’t need to be fitted for new ones until the next year, so it was handled easily enough.

The only irregular thing to happen was mid-July, when Tatty informed Harry and Hollia that an outside elf was attempting to interfere with Harry’s mail and had been stopped.

 

On September first, Tatty popped Harry to King’s Cross station at ten minutes to eleven, directly onto Platform 9 ¾. They cut the time close intentionally. It seemed unlikely that anyone would try to take Harry to Privet Drive the _day_ he was meant to return to school, but the Headmaster had never stopped sending disapproving letters (and later, portkeys) so they weren’t taking any chances.

On the train, Harry greeted his friends happily, ready to start his second year.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To anyone who wished the pacing of this story would slow down, you're welcome!
> 
> I was planning to continue with the pattern I set in first year for chapters - one for fall, one for Christmas, one for spring, and several for summer. And then I got to writing fall of second year and it's a MONSTER. So I cut it at Halloween, and the next chapter will take us to Christmas and we'll continue from there. As we get more into politics, family magic, and the Dumbledore/Weasley situation, the story will probably continue to slow down.

The train had left King’s Cross station less than fifteen minutes previously when Harry and his friends were interrupted in getting reacquainted. Ron Weasley opened the compartment door, and without a word closed it behind him and sat in the available seat closest to Harry, which was across from him and next to Isobel. Everyone inside had gone quiet in varying mixtures of surprise, annoyance, and confusion. 

“Mum says I’ve got to do a better job of being your friend this year,” Ron said to Harry.

Harry blinked. “Your  _ mum  _ said so? I’ve never even met her, why does she say you need to be my friend?”

“Dunno,” Ron said with a shrug. “But she said it’s important.”

Harry was reminded uncomfortably of the previous Christmas, when the headmaster had insisted that Harry give Ron a chance. “Do you,” Harry hesitated, feeling very unsure. “Do you actually  _ want  _ to be my friend?”

“Of course!” Ron insisted, looking quite indignant about it all. “You’re the Boy-Who-Lived! You’re a hero!”

Hermione leaned closer to Anthony, speaking quietly. “Didn’t he say almost that exact thing last year?” Anthony shrugged helplessly. He didn’t have Hermione’s memory, so if she said that he did then it was probably true.

“It’s not like that, though,” Harry insisted. “I’m really not a hero.”

“Of course it is!” Ron insisted back, getting agitated. “We saved the stone together in June.”

“That was the only time I’ve ever done anything like that, though,” Harry reasoned calmly. “And I didn’t do it because I wanted to. I didn’t have a choice. Most of the time, I just like to study with my friends or research projects in the library.” Ron deflated a bit, looking baffled. Harry gestured around the compartment. “We’re Ravenclaws. We all like that sort of thing. You and I have nothing in common as far as I know.”

“Sure we do,” Ron said, sounding less sure than he had earlier. “What about Quidditch? Everyone likes Quidditch!”

Harry shrugged. “It’s alright, I guess, but I’m not mad for it.” Ron stared at Harry as though he were insane, and Harry pressed on. “The only time we’ve ever talked for more than five minutes was on the train to school  _ last  _ September. Do you remember that conversation? We were talking about classes, and subjects that we like to study. You didn’t seem very interested in the conversation. We were talking about the same thing just now, before you arrived - summer tutoring.”

Ron spluttered. “You study in the summer?”

“That’s what I like to do,” Harry said with a nod. 

Abruptly, Ron stood up and moved towards the door. “I’ve gotta think,” he mumbled out before leaving.

Isobel sighed happily. “Do you think he’ll pester us less often, now?”

“I hope so,” Anthony replied. “I’ve got nothing against Gryffindors or Weasleys in general, but he’s gotten on my nerves and didn’t seem to be able to take a hint at all last year.”

Harry nodded before returning to his conversation with Hermione, comparing their cultural lessons over the summer.

 

“I am absolutely disgusted with him,” Anthony announced as the group entered the Ravenclaw common room following the welcoming feast. “I cannot believe that that- that  _ peacock _ is our new Defense professor.”

Nearly everyone in the vicinity was nodding along, Harry included. As soon as Ritty had bought Harry’s books and he’d read through them, he’d scoured the Potter library for  _ useful  _ books on Defense that he could bring to school. 

Hermione didn’t agree. “I’m suspending my judgment until we’ve had his class,” she said primly, pink-cheeked. “He’s written numerous books on Defense, and though I’ll agree that they aren’t high quality books that doesn’t invalidate what he’s done. He may simply be a bad writer.”

 

Lockhart was not simply a bad writer, but also a bad teacher and a bad spellcaster, the Ravenclaws quickly discovered. Even Hermione didn’t dare defend the man after the disaster that was their first lesson. A fifty question quiz on the man’s preferences and grooming habits, followed by a sound demonstration of how  _ not  _ to handle a swarm of Cornish Pixies didn’t endear the new professor to any of the Ravenclaws, even if most of them did better on the quiz than they’d care to admit. They’d read the books, after all.

At dinner the first day of classes, Harry received a note summoning him to the headmaster’s office following the meal. He sighed at it, and gave the owl which delivered it a bit of his roast beef. It wasn’t surprising, after Harry had spent the summer hiding at his estate and ignoring the man’s post. Harry took his time eating, even after the Headmaster had left, and got some small pleasure out of making him wait.

 

“Have a seat, Mr. Potter,” the headmaster said as Harry entered the office. 

The headmaster’s tone was the sternest anyone had heard in quite some time, but Harry hardly heard him. The moment he’d walked in, he’d noticed something that took his breath away. Standing frozen at the doorway to the office, Harry was struck by a familiar feeling that he’d never expected to feel here. His family magic. Numbly, he moved to sit down as his head swiveled towards the source of the magic and his eyes landed on the brilliant phoenix on a roost in the corner of the office.

“Mr. Potter, I am extremely disappointed with your behavior this summer,” Dumbledore began. Harry forced himself to look at the headmaster. Even as bewildered and frightened as he was, he was sure he shouldn’t let on what he’d noticed until he had a better read on the situation. “I trusted you to return to your relatives’ home. Indeed, I had trusted that you were truthful with me all of last year about where you went when you were not at school, and I discovered this summer that you were not.”

The headmaster paused, as if waiting for an apology. Instead, Harry immediately became distracted by the thoughts whirring in his mind. Every time he’d been in this office, even before he’d known what his family magic felt like, he’d been drawn to the phoenix there. Hollia had told him last Christmas that his father’s familiar had been a phoenix named Fawkes. 

“Mr. Potter?”

Harry startled. “Sorry, sir.”

Harry had been apologizing for his distraction - an automatic response - but Dumbledore took it as the desired apology for his behavior and began lecturing him in detail. He prattled on about trust, and about wards that he had only just managed to save, and told Harry that he would need to go to Privet Drive soon in order to recharge them. He did not ask Harry where he’d actually been, and whether it was intentional or something he’d forgotten Harry was distantly glad of it. He was in such a stupor over finding Fawkes that he might have answered outright despite his growing distrust of the Hogwarts Headmaster.

Nearly an hour after he’d entered the office, Harry was finally dismissed. With a final glance at Fawkes, he darted out the door and nearly sprinted back to Ravenclaw tower. The riddle was easy, and he made a beeline for the privacy of his dorm bathroom without pausing.

“Harry!” Isobel called out as he passed her, “How was your meeting?”

“Can’t talk now, need to call Hollia.”

“Who’s Hollia?” Anthony asked, standing to follow him. Harry cursed quietly - he hadn’t meant to identify his ‘tutor’.

“It sounds like a dryad name,” Hermione mused as she too stood to approach Harry. His eyes widened dramatically.

Isobel joined the small huddle that had formed around Harry, forcing him to stop in his charge. “The Potter Estate has a grove of dryad trees - is that where you went this summer?”

Harry shushed her desperately, looking around to see if anyone had heard. Luckily, none of them seemed to be paying attention. There were projects to set up for the new term, after all. Unable to see a way out, he gave a minute nod. “Please don’t tell anyone,” he begged. “No one can know where I’m staying until I find a way to do it legally.”

Each of his friends readily agreed. They’d all been properly horrified when Harry had told them about the spelled letters he’d received all summer from Dumbledore. 

“Is Hollia the one who’s been tutoring you?” Hermione asked excitedly, but also blessedly quiet. “Could we speak to her?”

Harry bit his lip. “She is, but not this time. It’s kind of an emergency - private Potter stuff - plus now I’ll have to tell her that I slipped up and told you all about the estate. I’ll make sure you can meet her someday, though.”

Hermione grinned, and Harry was finally able to slip away to contact her through his ring. Hollia was deeply concerned about the news of Fawkes, and told Harry that he should try to get a moment alone with him so that he could safely use his Beastspeaking to find out why he was there. Harry agreed, and then sheepishly told her that his friends had caught him out. Hollia only sighed, and said she knew the secret wouldn’t stay that way forever. Harry was only twelve, after all, and it was impressive that he’d kept it this long. Even if his friends told, she assured him, the wards at the Potter Estate were strong enough to protect him. There was a reason it had survived the last war, after all.

 

In the following days, Harry noticed a strange tension between Hermione and Isobel. He chalked the fact that he hadn't noticed it sooner up to the stresses he'd been dealing with from Dumbledore. It didn't help that they were quiet about whatever fight they were having.

"What's going on with you two?" he finally asked one day. He was working on astronomy homework with them while Anthony was in the library looking for books on their latest herbology project, and the two girls wouldn't even talk to each other.

"Her family keeps  _ slaves _ ," Hermione hissed to him. "I'd have never agreed to be fostered if I'd known."

"I'm sorry, what?"

Isobel sighed. "She's talking about house elves. I knew there would be stumbling blocks when she moved in, but I didn't expect that she wouldn't  _ listen _ and accept that she's wrong!"

Harry sighed heavily. "Your family's elves are happy and healthy?"

"Of course!" Isobel looked affronted he'd even ask, and he raised his hands in supplication. 

"Hermione, look," he sighed, and tried to think how to get through to her when her face took on a stubborn set. “They’ll die if they aren’t bonded to a family.”

“Then they should be paid!”

Harry scrubbed at his face with a hand. This wasn’t going well. “Come with me, Hermione. Isobel, you can come too if you want.” After checking that the two girls were following him, he left Ravenclaw tower in search of an empty classroom where they could talk. When all three of them were in the room, he locked the door with a spell. “Tatty!”

With a small pop, Tatty appeared in the classroom. Harry was relieved - he hadn’t been sure that she’d be able to come through the school’s wards. Hermione gasped, apparently horror-stricken that another of her friends took part in what she considered an immoral practice. 

“Tatty, these are my friends Hermione and Isobel.”

The little elf smiled. “Tatty has heard much from Master Harry and Mistress Hollia about his good friends.”

Harry smiled warmly at her. “Tatty is the head elf of the Potter Estate,” he told Hermione. “Ask her anything you want - about house elves in general, how the benefit from healthy bonds, their wants and needs, their working conditions… Tatty, I want you to answer Hermione’s questions. Speak freely - you can tell her anything but a family secret.”

“Yes, Master Harry!” Tatty said with a vigorous nod. 

Hermione’s expression retained its stubbornness for a few moments more, before her shoulders sagged and she began questioning the little elf. “Why didn’t you try this?” Harry asked Isobel.

She looked surprised. “I hadn’t thought of it, honestly. She just kept saying that we were horrible for keeping elves, and that they were slaves, and I was just so angry...”

Harry shrugged, unsure what to say, and looked to where Hermione was listening to Tatty as she passionately explained, in general terms so as not to share any secrets, her work and the work of the other hundred and twelve house-elves at the Potter Estate and the benefits they all gained when the Potters rescued them from unhealthy and abusive situations. Harry was a bit surprised that Tatty was able to share that last part, but he supposed that for elves to know they could come to the Potters then it couldn’t be a secret.

Hermione spent over an hour conversing with Tatty, and Isobel and Harry were eventually sucked into the conversation as well. By the time she was done, Hermione had grudgingly apologized and promised to write a letter to Isobel’s parents as well, and the girls were speaking again. Harry dismissed Tatty back to her work with a thank you, and the three returned to the tower just as Anthony made his way back from the library.

 

Ronald Weasley seemed to have taken the conversation on the train to heart, and didn’t bother Harry and his friends again. Unfortunately, he’d gained a new red-headed pest. Ginny Weasley, who Harry was reliably informed was the youngest of the family and the only girl, followed him every moment she could. The girl looked like a lost puppy, and it made Harry deeply uncomfortable. Especially since, as she followed him, she didn’t say a word. He’d tried to talk to her once, to ask if he could do anything for her, and she’d only squeaked and blushed before hiding her face with her hands.

He’d rather have Ronald.

 

Ares was more clingy in Harry’s second year than he had been in first. When Harry had a moment alone with his familiar, he reached out with his magic and made contact.

“There is a dangerous predator lurking, Master,” Ares growled to him. 

“More dangerous than you?”

The nundu’s voice turned proud. “No one is more dangerous than me. I will keep you safe.”

Harry tried to point out that his family magic could also keep him safe from whatever predator lurked the halls, just as it did with Ares, but his familiar was determined to guard him.  _ At least _ , he thought,  _ a fully bonded familiar is welcome throughout the castle with me. _

A rumor went through the school that all of Cattermole’s roosters had been killed. Each one had had its throat cut, if the rumors were believable, meaning that it was a person and not a wild animal who’d done it. Suddenly Harry felt glad that Ares refused to leave his side. 

 

On Halloween, Harry noticed that Ares was even more agitated than he’d been all term. He excused himself a few minutes early from the feast to find out what was wrong, but when he stumbled upon Mrs. Norris, stiff as a board and hung by her tail in front of an ominous message that Harry  _ hoped  _ was in red paint, he suddenly felt he didn’t need to ask anymore. 

_ The Chamber of Secrets Has Been Opened. Enemies of the Heir, Beware. _

It was just Harry’s luck that he was still standing there when the rest of the students and staff happened across the message, ripe to be blamed. In moments, Filch had Harry backed up against the wall while Harry silently willed Ares  _ not to transform _ . Filch’s enraged threats were frightening, yes, but Harry was sure that he wouldn’t be given an opportunity to follow through with them. 

In what seemed to be the nick of time, Dumbledore and the heads of house made their way to the front of the crowd and pulled Filch off of Harry. Ares calmed significantly. The headmaster examined Mrs. Norris while McGonagall and Sprout kept Filch’s rage contained and Flitwick quietly asked Harry about what had happened. Snape stood by, looking menacingly at the crowd of students gathered. Harry wasn’t sure what his goal was. After a few minutes, Dumbledore proclaimed that the cat was petrified and not killed and urged the crowd to disperse before telling Harry to go to his office to wait for a meeting while he delivered Mrs. Norris to a more comfortable resting place until she could be restored. Professor Flitwick protested the necessity, but Harry waved him off quickly. This was just the chance he needed to be alone with Fawkes. 

 

The moment Harry was in the Headmaster’s office, he reached out to his father’s familiar with his magic. The connection began almost as easily as speaking with Ares, just as it had with Azalea at the Estate, but was suddenly slowed by a foreign kind of magic. Harry forced the connection through as gently as he could while still making progress - he didn’t want to hurt the legendary bird. 

Finally, he felt it take hold. “Fawkes?” His voice came in coos and trills, less otherworldly than the cry of a phoenix but certainly related.

“A Potter,” the phoenix’s cry responded. “Family.”

Harry’s brow furrowed in concern. Azaela had recognized him much more specifically, as her mistress’ son. Phoenixes were incredibly intelligent and had memories that suited their long lives. There was no reason for Fawkes’ recollection of him to be so vague. “Fawkes, why are you here?”

“Here? Where… My Master.”

Harry’s heart ached. “Fawkes, my fa- your master died eleven years ago today.”

“My master… comes.”

Harry was about to ask what Fawkes could mean by that, when the door opened and the headmaster came in. Harry hastily broke his connection with Fawkes, unsure if Dumbledore would be able to tell what he’d been doing. 

At the end of the brief meeting, Harry couldn’t tell you a single thing that had been said. His thoughts were racing with concern and confusion over his short conversation with Fawkes, and he  _ needed  _ to talk to Hollia. 

 

Calling Hollia while concerned about Fawkes appeared to be bad for Harry’s ability to keep a secret. Anthony came into the dorm bathroom just as Hollia said she’d look into magic that would bind a phoenix against its will, and ran out of the room in horror before Harry could explain. He groaned and ended the communication as quickly as possible, racing downstairs to find Anthony, pale and shaken, babbling to Isobel and Hermione in a corner. 

“Can I explain?” he asked wearily. “Anthony walked in on me at the  _ worst  _ possible time.” His friends agreed - Anthony the most reluctantly - and followed him to a nearby empty classroom. “Does anyone know a privacy spell? I really ought to have learned some by now if I’m going to be communicating with home through my ring, but hiding out in the bathroom worked just fine all last year.”

Isobel cast one and promised to teach it to Harry later, assuming that he had a reasonable explanation for what Anthony had overheard. 

Harry hesitated, trying to decide how best to explain without telling them the Secret. “It’s not well-known,” he said slowly, “but my father had a phoenix as a familiar.”

“How would he have kept that quiet?” Hermione asked incredulously.

“ _ Why  _ would he have kept it quiet?” Isobel asked in the same way.

“Both answers are family secrets,” Harry said, a bit frustrated. “But I swear it’s true.”

“That doesn’t explain why you’d want to bind a phoenix against its will!” Anthony exclaimed hysterically. 

“I  _ don’t _ , Anthony, I swear I don’t,” Harry said a bit desperately. “Earlier this school year, I realized that the phoenix in the headmaster’s office was my father’s familiar. That's what I needed to talk to Hollia about the  _ last  _ time I let a secret slip. She and I both think that he’s not there of his own free will. Hollia is looking into that magic for me so we can find a way to  _ break  _ it, if it’s possible.”

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to believe you,” Anthony said quietly. “Your dad’s phoenix that no one ever saw or knew about, and you can just  _ tell  _ that it’s been bound?”

“You have to admit, Harry,” Isobel said, cautiously reasonable, “It does sound a bit far fetched.”

Harry sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m skirting around my family’s  _ biggest  _ secret. One that Potters have kept for two millennium. I  _ really _ shouldn’t tell you anything more.”

“Shouldn’t?” Hermione asked. 

“I mean, there’s no reason I  _ can’t _ . I’m the last Potter. Who would stop me? But I’ve been advised not to tell anyone unless they  _ need  _ to know.” 

“Harry,” Anthony said, still desperate, still hysterical. “If we’re going to stay mates, I need to know.”

Harry shifted from foot to foot, scrubbing a hand over his eyes as he thought. “Do you have to know the whole secret? If I could show you- if you saw, with your own eyes, that it’s possible to have a familiar as exotic as a phoenix and keep it a secret, would that be enough?”

Anthony hesitated. 

“Given what the Headmaster did to you this summer, Harry,” Hermione said, “I think it should be.”

Isobel nodded. “I don’t  _ want  _ to think that our headmaster would subjugate a phoenix, and it’s quite a bit further to go than to send a student portkeys and stuff, but the secret phoenix is a big part of why what you’ve said is hard to swallow.”

Anthony looked at the two girls, and then back at Harry. He swallowed, and nodded. Harry gave the group a tentative smile. “Alright. Just- I promise you’re safe.” Everyone looked like they had questions about that, but before they could ask Harry told Ares to transform. 

All three of Harry’s friends backed up rapidly as the little housecat on the floor rapidly grew to well over a meter tall, easily weighing two hundred kilos. His unique gold and black coat didn’t change, but he grew spines over various parts of his body and an aggressively spiked mane. Harry stroked a hand through the soft fur at Ares’ back as he gave his friends a few moments to get past the initial shock. 

“Like I said, you’re safe,” he reassured them. “Ares and I have been bonded since my eleventh birthday - fifteen months now - and there hasn’t been a single nundu-related death in that time. Or before it, either. And he’s never hurt a single person here at Hogwarts.”

Hermione recovered first. “Can I pet him?”

Harry noted that Ares didn’t grow defensive, likely because Hermione had pet him plenty as a cat, and nodded to her. “Just look out for the spines. They won’t kill you or anything, but it’s not like you want to stab yourself with one either.”

Slowly, she approached and buried her hand in Ares’ fur. “He’s still soft,” she said quietly. 

“Yeah,” Harry said with a grin. “I like to curl up with him and read at home.”

“I-in this form?” Anthony asked tremulously. 

Harry grinned. “Yeah. Ares strongly prefers being a nundu over being a cat. He’s very proud of his prowess and the danger he could represent, even though he knows not to hurt someone unless I’m in mortal danger. Anytime he can, he’ll be in his true form. Now that you all know, I’m sure you’ll see him like this again.”

Anthony didn’t look excited about the fact, but Isobel took a careful step forward to pet Ares as well. 

“What about the toxic breath?” Anthony asked.

“Well, for one, the textbooks overstate its power,” Harry started. “Not that I’ve tested it, mind, but I know that it won’t actually drop a whole village instantly. Second, it’s a voluntary attack, like a dragon’s fire. And like I said, he knows better. He’s extremely intelligent and loyal.” Harry grinned at the two girls. “So that’s how my dad had a phoenix and kept it a secret. Fawkes turned into an owl, the same way Ares turns into a cat. The rest of it, I really hope to keep a secret like it’s meant to be.”

Everyone nodded. Harry looked to Anthony. “Are we alright?”

Anthony let out a shaky breath. “Yeah, we’re alright.”


End file.
